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CALLE    DEL    PISTOR 


LITERARY  LANDMARKS 

OF 

VENICE 


BY 


LAURENCE  HUTTON 
I  » 

author  of  "  literary  landmarks  of  london  ' 
"literary    landmarks    of    Edinburgh" 

"  literary  landmarks  of  JERUSALEM  " 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

1896 


•  «««•••  • 


Copyright,  1896,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


All  rights  reserved. 


TO 

WILLIAM  DEAN  HOWELLS 

WHOSE    VENETIAN    LIFE 

MADE  HAPPY 

MY  LIFE  IN  VENICE 


869631 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


CALLE  DEL  PISTOR Frontispiece 

ORNAMENTAL  HALF-TITLE Facing  page  xii 

THE    COUNCIL    CHAMBER    OF    THE    DOGES. 

IN   OTHELLO'S   TIME "  "            6 

THE  OTHELLO   HOUSE "  "  ID 

PETRARCH  AND  LAURA Page  1 6 

THE  HOUSE  OF  PETRARCH Facingpage  20 

A  CHARACTERISTIC  CANAL "  "  26 

BYRON's  PALACE "  "  30 

THE   RIALTO  BRIDGE.      AS  SHYLOCK  KNEW 

IT '•  "  32 

entrance  to  the  merceria    .    .     .     .  "  "  34 

casa  falier,  where  mr.  ho  wells  lived  "  "  40 

goldoni's  staircase "  "  42 

goldoni's  statue "  "  44 

BYRON's   study    in    the   ARMENIAN    MON- 
ASTERY         "  "  48 

THE     "NOAH    corner"    OF    THE    DOGE'S 

palace "  "  56 

the  house  in  which  browning  died  .  "  "  60 


INTRODUCTION 


In  a  chapter  upon  **  Literary  Residences," 
among  The  Curiosities  of  Literature^  Isaac 
D'Israeli  said:  "No  foreigners,  men  of  let- 
ters, lovers  of  the  arts,  or  even  princes,  would 
pass  through  Antwerp  without  visiting  the 
House  of  Rubens,  to  witness  the  animated 
residence  of  genius,  and  the  great  man  who 
conceived  the  idea."  This  volume  is  in- 
tended to  be  a  record  of  the  Animated  Resi- 
dences of  Genius  which  are  still  existing  in 
Venice;  and  it  is  written  for  the  foreigners, 
for  the  Men  of  Letters,  for  the  lovers  of  art, 
and  even  for  the  princes  who  pass  through 
the  town,  and  who  care  to  make  such  houses 
a  visit. 

It  is  the  result  of  many  weeks  of  patient 
but  pleasant  study  of  Venice  itself.  Every- 
thing here  set  down  has  been  verified  by  per- 


sonal  observation,  and  is  based  upon  the  read- 
ing of  scores  of  works  of  travel  and  biography. 
It  is  the  Venice  I  know  in  the  real  life  of 
the  present  and  in  the  literature  of  the  past ; 
and  to  me  it  is  Venice  from  its  best  and  most 
interesting  side. 

The  Queen  of  the  Adriatic  is  peculiarly 
poor  in  local  guide-books  and  in  local  maps. 
In  the  former  are  to  be  found  but  slight  refer- 
ence to  that  part  of  Venice  which  is  most 
dear  to  the  lovers  of  bookmen  and  to  the 
lovers  of  books;  and  the  latter  contain  the 
names  of  none  but  the  larger  of  the  squares, 
streets,  and  canals,  leaving,  in  many  instances, 
the  searcher  after  the  smaller  thoroughfares 
entirely  afloat  in  the  Adriatic,  with  no  com- 
pass by  which  to  steer. 

The  stranger  in  Venice,  accustomed  to  the 
nomenclature  of  the  streets  and  the  avenues, 
the  alleys  and  the  courts,  of  the  cities  and 
towns  with  which  he  is  familiar  in  other 
parts  of  the  world,  may  be  interested  to 
learn  that  here  a  large  canal  is  called  a  Rio^ 
or  a  Canale ;  that  a  Calle  is  a  street  open  at 
both  ends ;  that  a  Rio  Terra  is  a  street  which 


was  once  a  canal;  that  a  Ramo  is  a  small, 
narrow  street,  branching  out  of  a  larger  one ; 
that  a  Salizzada  is  a  wide,  paved  street ;  that 
a  Ruga  is  just  a  street ;  that  a  Rtcghetta,  or 
a  Piscina,  is  a  little  street ;  that  a  i?zV^  is  a 
narrow  footway  along  the  bank  of  a  canal; 
that  a  Fondarnenta  is  a  longer  and  a  broader 
passage-way,  a  quay,  or  an  embankment ; 
that  a  Corte  is  a  court-yard ;  that  a  Sotto- 
portico  is  an  entrance  into  a  court,  through, 
or  under,  a  house — that  which  in  Edinburgh  is 
called  a  Pend,  and  in  Paris  a  67////  that  a  large 
square  is  a  Piazza ;  that  a  small  square  is  a 
Piazzetta,  or  a  Campo ;  that  a  small  campo  is  a 
Campiello;  that  a  plain,  commonplace  house 
is  a  Casa;  that  a  mansion  is  a  Palazzo ;  that 
an  island  is  an  Isola;  that  a  bridge  is  a  Ponte ; 
that  a  tower  is  a  Campanile ;  that  a  ferry  is  a 
Traghetto ;  that  a  parish  is  a  Parrochia;  and 
that  a  district  is  a  Contrada,  or  a  Sistiere. 

Armed  with  this  information,  the  readers 
must  do  the  rest  for  themselves. 

To  Mrs.  Clara  Erskine  Clement,  to  Miss 
Henrietta  Macy,  to  Mrs.  Walter  F.  Brown, 
to  Mr.  Charles  Dudley  Warner,  to  Dr.  Alex- 


ander  Robertson,  to  Mr.  William  Logsdail, 
I  owe  my  thanks  for  much  valuable  informa- 
tion given  me  while  I  was  enlarging,  elabo- 
rating, and  revising  the  article,  printed  in 
Harpers  Magazine  for  July,  1896,  upon 
which  this  volume  is  based. 

Laurence  Hutton. 

Casa  Frolo, 
50  Giudecca. 


LITERARY   LANDMARKS  OF  VENICE 


cm  LANDMAUKSoFr 


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LITERARY  LANDMARKS  OF 
VENICE 


It  is  almost  impossible  for  any  one  who  is 
at  all  familiar  with  the  voluminous  amount 
of  literature  relating  to  the  history  and  to  the 
art  of  Venice,  to  refrain  from  quoting,  volun- 
tarily or  involuntarily,  what  he  has  read  and 
absorbed  concerning  "  the  dangerous  and 
sweet-charmed  town,"  which  Ruskin  calls  a 
golden  city  paved  with  emerald,  and  which 
Goethe  said  is  a  city  which  can  only  be  com- 
pared with  itself.  Comparisons  in  Venice  are 
certainly  as  odorous  as  are  som^  of  jit?  canals, 
while  many  of  its  streets  are.  not  only  paved 
with  emerald,  but  are  frescoed  now:wii:],i  glar- 
ing End-of-the-Nineteenth-Century  advertise- 
ments of  dentifrice  and  sewing-machines. 

That   which   first   strikes   the    observant 


stranger  in  Venice,  to-day,  is  the  fact  that 
the  Venetians  have  absolutely  and  entirely 
lost  their  grip  upon  the  beautiful.  Nothing 
on  earth  can  be  finer  than  the  art  of  its  glory; 
nothing  in  the  world  can  be  viler  than  the 
so-called  art  of  its  decadence.  That  the  de- 
scendants of  the  men  who  decorated  the 
palaces  of  five  or  six  hundred  years  ago  could 
have  conceived,  or  endured,  the  wall-papers, 
the  stair-carpets,  and  the  hat-racks  in  the 
Venetian  hotels  of  the  present,  is  beyond  be- 
lief. Whatever  is  old  is  magnificent,  from  the 
madonnas  of  Gian  Bellini  to  the  window  of 
the  Cicogna  Palace  on  the  Fondamenta  Briati. 
Whatever  is  new  is  ugly,  from  the  railway- 
station  at  one  end  of  the  Grand  Canal  to 
the  gas-house  at  the  other.  And  the  iron 
bridges,  and  the  steamboats,  and  the  drop- 
curtain  in  the  Malibran  Theatre  are  the  worst 
of-.ali.; :;;  ;  ; 

'  When  th,e  Ei^glish-speaking  and  the  Eng- 
'.lislj-f^44iiiS'vi'sitors  in  Venice,  for  whom  this 
volume  is  written,  overcome  the  feeling  that 
they  are  predestined  to  fall  into  one  of  the 
canals  before  they  leave  the  city ;  when  they 


become  accustomed  to  being  driven  about  in 
a  hearse-shaped,  one-manned  row-boat ;  when 
they  have  been  shown  all  the  traditional 
sights,  have  bought  the  regulation  old  brass 
and  old  glass,  have  learned  to  draw  smoke 
out  of  the  long,  thin,  black,  rat-tailed  straw- 
covering  things  the  Venetians  call  cigars — 
when  they  have  seen  and  have  done  all  these, 
they  will  find  themselves  much  more  inter- 
ested in  the  house  in  which  Byron  lived,  and 
in  the  perfectly  restored  palace  in  which 
Browning  died,  than  in  the  half -ruined, 
wholly  decayed  mansions  of  all  the  Doges 
who  were  ever  Lord  Mayors  of  Venice.  The 
guide-books  tell  us  where  Faliero  plotted  and 
where  Foscari  fell,  where  Desdemona  suf- 
fered and  where  Shylock  traded;  but  they 
give  us  no  hint  as  to  where  Sir  Walter  Scott 
lodged  or  where  Rogers  breakfasted,  or  what 
was  done  here  by  the  many  English-speaking 
Men  of  Letters  who  have  made  Venice  known 
to  us,  and  properly  understood.  Upon  these 
chiefly  it  is  my  purpose  here  to  dwell. 

Venice,  with  all  her  literature,  has  brought 
forth  but  few  literary  men  of  her  own.    There 


are  but  few  poets  among  her  legitimate  sons, 
and  few  were  the  poets  she  adopted.  The 
early  annalists  and  the  later  historians  were 
almost  the  only  writers  of  importance  who 
were  entitled  to  call  her  mother ;  and  to  most 
of  these  she  has  been,  though  kindly,  little 
more  than  a  step-mother  or  a  mother-in-law. 
Shakspere,  who  wrote  much  about  Ven- 
ice, and  who  probably  never  saw  it,  re- 
marked once  that  all  the  world's  a  stage. 
Venice,  even  now,  is  a  grand  spectacular 
show ;  and  no  drama  ever  written  is  more 
dramatic  than  is  Venice  itself.  Mr.  Howells 
prefaces  his  Venetian  Life  by  an  account  of 
the  play,  and  the  by-play,  which  he  once 
saw  from  a  stage-box  in  the  little  theatre  in 
Padua,  when  the  prompters,  and  the  scene- 
shifters,  and  the  actors  in  the  wings,  were  as 
prominent  to  him  as  were  the  tragedians  and 
comedians  who  strutted,  and  mouthed,  and 
sawed  the  air  with  their  hands,  in  full  view 
of  the  house;  and  he  adds:  *' It  has  some- 
times seemed  to  me  as  if  fortune  had  given 
me  a  stage-box  at  another  and  grander  spec- 
tacle, and  that  I  had  been  suffered  to  see 


this  Venice,  which  is  to  other  cities  like  the 
pleasant  improbability  of  the  theatre  to  every- 
day, commonplace  life,  to  much  the  same 
effect  as  that  melodrama  in  Padua."  It  has 
been  my  own  good  fortune  to  spend,  at  vari- 
ous seasons,  a  short  time  in  the  pit — "  on  a 
standee  ticket " — just  to  drop  in  for  a  moment 
now  and  then,  when  the  performance  is 
nearly  over,  and  to  look  not  so  much  at  the 
broken-down  stage  and  its  worn-out  settings, 
not  so  much  at  the  actors  and  at  the  acting, 
as  to  study  the  audiences,  the  crowds  of  men 
and  women  in  parquet,  gallery,  and  boxes, 
who  have  been  sitting  for  centuries  through 
the  different  thrilling  acts  of  the  great  plays 
played  here ;  and  have  applauded,  or  hissed, 
as  the  case  may  be. 

So  strange  and  so  strong  is  the  power  of 
fiction  over  truth,  in  Venice,  as  everywhere 
else,  that  Portia  and  Emilia,  Cassio,  Antonio, 
and  lago,  appear  to  have  been  more  real  here 
than  are  the  women  and  men  of  real  life.  We 
see,  on  the  Rialto,  Shylock  first,  and  then  its 
history  and  its  associations ;  and  the  Council 
Chamber  of  the  Palace  of  the  Doges  is  chiefly 


interesting  as  being  the  scene  of  Othello's 
eloquent  defence  of  himself. 

It  is  a  curious  fact,  recorded  by  Th.  Elze, 
and  quoted  by  Mr.  Horace  Howard  Furness, 
in  his  Appendix  to  The  Merchant  of  Venice^ 
that  at  the  time  of  the  action  of  that  drama, 
in  Shakspere's  own  day,  there  was  living  in 
Padua  a  professof  of  the  University  whose 
characteristics  fully  and  entirely  corresponded 
with  all  the  qualities  of  ''  Old  Bellario,"  and 
with  all  the  requisites  of  the  play.  In  his 
concluding  passages  Elze  described  the  Uni- 
versity of  Padua  at  the  close  of  the  Sixteenth 
Century,  w^hen  there  were  representatives  of 
twenty-three  nations  among  its  students.  He 
said  that  not  a  few  Englishmen  took  up  their 
abode  in  Padua,  for  a  longer  or  a  shorter  time, 
for  the  purposes  of  study  ;  all  of  whom  must 
naturally  have  visited  Venice.  *'  And,"  he 
added,  **  if  it  has  been  hitherto  impossible 
to  prove  that  Shakspere  drew  his  knowledge 
of  Venice  and  Padua,  and  the  region  about, 
from  personal  observation,  it  is  quite  possible 
to  suppose  that  he  obtained  it  by  word  of 
mouth,  either  from  Italians  living  in  England, 


or  from  Englishmen  who  had  pursued  their 
studies  at  Padua." 

Among  the  significant  names  given  by 
Elze  as  students  at  Padua  are  Rosenkranz, 
in  1587  to  1589,  and  Guldenstern,  in  1603. 

One  of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  Eng- 
lish representatives  who  took  up  his  abode  in 
Padua  in  the  middle  of  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury, was  Oliver  Goldsmith,  who,  according 
to  John  Forster,  received  his  degree  there, 
although  there  is  no  official  record  of  such  a 
fact. 

Signor  Giuseppe  Tassini,  in  his  Curiosith 
Veneziane,  published  in  1863,  gives  the  follow- 
ing account  of  what  is  known  as  **  Othello's 
House,"  which  has,  in  all  probability,  never 
before  been  put  into  English,  and  is  here 
roughly  translated.  At  the  right-hand  side 
of  the  Campo  del  Carmine,  or  on  the  little 
canal  of  the  same  name,  he  says,  in  effect, 
stands  what  is  left  of  an  ancient  palace 
supposed,  but  incorrectly,  to  have  belonged 
once  to  an  influential  family  called  Moro. 
Christoforo  Moro,  a  cadet  of  the  house,  was 
sent  to  Cyprus  in  1505  ;  and  he  returned  in 


1508  to  relate  to  the  magnificos  of  his 
native  city  his  adventures  there,  having  in 
the  meantime  lost  his  first  wife.  In  15 15  he 
was  married  again,  and  to  Demonia  Bian- 
co, daughter  of  Donato  da  Lazze.  Rawdon 
Brown  and  other  writers,  continues  Signor 
Tassini,  believe  that  upon  this  hint  Shak- 
spere  spoke,  making  Othello  a  Moor,  as  a 
play  upon  the  name  Moro,  and  turning  De- 
monia Bianco  into  Desdemona.  But  he 
adds  that  the  Goro,  not  the  Moro,  family 
lived  here  in  the  beginning  of  the  Sixteenth 
Century,  the  latter  occupying  a  palace  in  the 
Campo  di  S.  Giovanni  Decollato,  now  the 
Campo  S.  Zan  Degola,  some  distance  away. 
Confusing  the  names  of  Goro  and  Moro, 
and  fancying  that  the  ancient  figure  of  a 
warrior  standing  on  the  corner  of  the  Campo 
del  Carmine  house,  now  blackened  by  time, 
although  not  so  black  as  he  is  painted,  repre- 
sents a  Moor,  the  guides  and  the  gondoliers, 
and  even  the  antiquaries,  of  Venice  have 
given  to  "  Othello's  House,"  according  to 
Signor  Tassini,  a  local  reputation  and  a  name 
which  it  does  not  merit. 


The  beautiful  little  Gothic  Palazzo  Con- 
tarini-Fasan,  built  in  the  Fourteenth  Century 
and  done  over  at  the  end  of  the  Nineteenth, 
on  the  right  bank  of  the  Grand  Canal,  going 
towards  the  Rialto,  and  near  the  Grand  Hotel, 
seems  to  have  no  excuse,  either  from  tradi- 
tion or  from  any  confusion  of  names,  for  call- 
ing itself  ''the  House  of  Desdemona"  at  all. 
Its  only  dramatic  interest  to-day  consists  in 
the  fact  that  it  has  been  the  home  of  Signora 
Eleonora  Duse,  the  leading  actress  of  Italy, 
who  is  called  by  her  admirers  the  Italian  Sara 
Bernhardt,  although  she  has  genius  enough 
of  her  own  to  warrant  her  being  compared 
with  no  one  but  herself. 

And  thus  perish,  at  the  hands  of  a  trans- 
atlantic, present-day  iconoclast  and  grubber 
after  the  truth,  two  of  the  most  cherished  of 
the  Landmarks  of  Venice. 

Mr.  Hare  is  of  the  opinion  that  the  Doge 
Christoforo  Moro,  buried  in  the  Church  of 
S.  Giobbe  in  the  Canareggio  District,  is  the 
Moro  of  the  Othello  legend,  although  he  died 
in  1470,  almost  half  a  century  before  Signor 
Tassini  married  him  to  Desdemona ;  and  his 


tomb,  in  the  chancel  of  the  church,  as  Mr. 
Hare  points  out,  "  is  ornamented  with  the 
moro  or  mulberry,  which  was  his  family  de- 
vice." It  will  be  remembered  that  Othello 
inherited  from  his  mamma  a  handkerchief 
spotted  with  strawberries  (mulberries?)  which 
played  an  important  part  in  the  great  tragedy 
of  his  life. 

Christoforo  Moro  lies  under  a  large  flat 
stone  in  front  of  the  altar  of  the  church.  The 
slab  has  been  greatly  defaced  by  the  tread 
of  generations  of  priests  and  of  acolytes,  but 
its  carvings  still  bear  distinct  traces  of  fruits 
which  to-day  look  as  much  like  strawberries 
as  mulberries,  while  certain  of  their  leaves  are 
decidedly  of  the  strawberry  form.  A  por- 
trait of  Doge  Moro  hangs  in  the  sacristy  of 
S.  Giobbe.  It  exhibits  a  face  in  which  there 
are  no  signs  of  the  duskiness  which  dramatic 
tradition  has  given  to  Othello  during  all  these 
years,  but  which  is  hard  enough  to  have 
silenced  the  most  dreadful  belle  who  ever 
frighted  the  isle  from  its  propriety. 

Mr.  Hare  also  explains  that  a  story  very 
like  to  that  of  Shakspere's  Othello  was  told 


THE   OTHELLO    HOUSE 


II 

in  the  seventh  novella  of  the  third  decade 
of  Giovanni  Battista  Cinthio's  collection  of 
stories,  called  the  Ecatomiti,  in  which  the 
name  of  the  heroine  is  the  same,  and  in  which 
the  original  lago  suggested  to  Othello  that  a 
stocking  filled  with  sand  might  be  an  admi- 
rable weapon  against  his  wife  if  it  were  judi- 
ciously applied  to  her  back.  Mr.  Hare  quotes 
Bishop  Bollani  as  writing  in  1602,  June  ist: 
*'  The  day  before  yesterday,  a  Sanudo,  living 
in  the  Rio  della  Croce,  on  the  Giudecca,  com- 
pelled his  wife,  a  lady  of  the  Cappello  family, 
to  go  to  confession,  and  the  following  night, 
towards  the  fifth  hour,  plunged  a  dagger  into 
her  heart  and  killed  her.  It  is  said  that  she 
had  been  unfaithful  to  him,  but  the  voice  of 
her  neighborhood  proclaimed  her  a  saint." 

The  voice  of  the  gallery  has  proclaimed 
Desdemona  a  saint  ever  since  ! 

The  Venetians  still  believe  implicitly  in  the 
statue  of  the  sunburnt  warrior,  and  in  Shak- 
spere's  history  of  his  life.  And  Mr.  Howells's 
gondolier  not  only  showed  him  the  house  of 
Cassio,  near  the  Rialto  Bridge,  but  was  ready 
to  point  out  the  residence  of  the  amiable 


12 

lago  and  of  Emilia,  his  wife.  Cassio,  I  may 
remark,  is  said  here  to  have  been  Desde- 
mona's  cousin,  and  lago  is  believed  to  have 
been  the  major-domo  of  the  distracted  house- 
hold. 

The  modern  Venetian  dealers  in  second- 
hand portraits,  and  the  venders  of  bric-a-brac 
of  all  kinds,  seem  to  have  learned  their  strict 
and  universal  Economy  of  Truth  from  the 
memorial  tablets  over  their  shops.  If  you 
are  offered  here  an  article  of  original,  home- 
made, present-time  antiquity  for  five  lire,  you 
may  depend  upon  getting  it  for  two  lire  and 
a  half,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  it  costs  you, 
even  then,  about  twice  as  much  as  it  is  worth. 
If  an  inscription  in  old  Latin  or  in  choice 
Italian  tells  you  that  "  Here  lived "  some 
particular  Venetian  hero  of  sword  or  pen, 
you  may  put  down  in  your  diary  that  he 
probably  visited  next  door,  or  that  he  died 
over  the  way. 

The  tablet  devoted  to  Marco  Polo,  how- 
ever, being  upon  the  side  of  a  play-house 
where  fiction  is  supposed  to  reign  supreme, 
seems  to  have  established  itself  as  the  excep- 


13 

tion  which  proves  this  rule.  Only  a  small 
portion  of  the  Palazzo  dei  Polo  now  remains. 
What  is  left  of  it  is  little  more  than  a  frag- 
ment of  an  outside  staircase  in  a  corner  of  the 
Corte  Millione  in  the  Canareggio  District. 
The  mansion  at  one  time  covered  no  small 
part  of  the  neighboring  territory,  which  still 
bears  distinct  traces  of  wealthy  and  aristo- 
cratic occupancy.  Over  the  door-way  of  the 
Malibran  Theatre,  on  the  Rio  del  Teatro 
Malibran,  is  an  inscription  stating  that  "  This 
was  the  house  of  Marco  Polo,  who  travelled 
in  the  remotest  parts  of  Asia,  and  described 
them.  This  tablet  was  placed  here  by  the 
Commune  in  1881." 

The  great  voyager  was  born  in  this  house, 
and  here  he  spent,  in  comparative  quiet,  after 
many  years  of  toilsome  but  profitable  travel, 
the  last  days  of  his  life.  Having,  like  Shak- 
spere's  banish'd  Norfolk,  retired  himself  to 
Italy,  here  in  Venice  he  gave  his  body  to 
this  pleasant  country's  earth,  in  1323  or 
thereabouts.  How  far  the  rest  of  the  quota- 
tion is  applicable  to  his  peculiar  case  no 
man,  of  course,  can  say.     Polo  was  called  by 


14 

alliterative  neighbors  "  Mark  the  Millionaire" 
— hence  the  '' Corte  Millione";  and  the  rich 
man,  proverbially,  does  not  find  heaven  a 
place  of  easy  access. 

The  Corte  Millione,  Polo's  court-yard,  is 
now  the  al-fresco  foyer  of  the  Malibran 
Theatre,  which  was  built  originally  in  1678. 
But  hardly  one  of  the  millions  of  Venetian 
youths  who,  for  more  than  two  centuries, 
have  cooled  themselves  under  the  stars,  by 
the  side  of  Polo's  old  well  and  Polo's  old 
marble  balustrade,  between  the  acts  of  the 
play  or  the  ballet,  ever  heard  of  Mark  the 
Millionaire,  or  care  where  he  lived  or  where 
he  died. 

The  mystery  as  to  the  exact  part  of  this 
pleasant  country's  earth  which  received  Mar- 
co Polo's  body  has  never  been  cleared  up.  In 
a  copy  of  his  last  will  and  testament,  I  read, 
however,  that  he  left  a  certain  sum  of  money 
to  the  Monastery  of  Saint  Lawrence  here, 
"where  I  desire  to  be  buried."  He  certainly 
buried  his  father,  Nicolo  Polo,  in  the  old  and 
original  Church  of  S.  Lorenzo ;  and  the  natu- 
ral inference  is  that  he  himself  lies  some- 


15 

where  within  its  precincts.  The  sarcophagus 
erected  for  the  elder  Polo  by  the  filial  care  of 
the  younger  Polo  is  known  to  have  existed, 
until  towards  the  end  of  the  Sixteenth  Cen- 
tury, in  the  porch  leading  to  the  church. 

The  old  building  was  renewed,  from  its 
very  foundations,  in  1592,  and  no  traces  of 
the  ancient  structure  remain ;  the  old  paro- 
chial records  no  longer  exist,  and  even  the 
name  of  the  Polos  is  as  unknown  to  the 
parochial  authorities  to-day  as  it  is  to  the 
worldlings  who  crowd  the  theatre  erected 
upon  the  site  of  the  house  which  was  their 
home. 

Petrarch  is  known  to  have  made  several 
visits  to  Venice,  and  he  is  said  to  have  been 
very  familiar  with  it,  and  very  fond  of  it, 
even  in  his  youth.  In  1353  or  '54  he  was 
certainly  here,  for  a  short  time,  in  an  official 
capacity ;  and  documentary  evidence  clearly 
proves  that  he  settled  in  Venice  in  1362 — a 
cholera  year — and  remained  here  until  1368, 
making  annual  excursions  to  Padua,  and 
spending  certain  of  the  summer  and  autumn 
months  with  friends  at  Pavia.     During  this 


i6 


period  he  determined  to  bequeath  a  portion 
of  his  rich  library  to  Venice  for  the  use  of 
students  and  the  general  public,  and  as  an 


DEL  PETRARCKA.  E.DI  M.LAVRA. 

example  to  other  men.  He  was  highly  es- 
teemed by  the  Venetians,  and  his  house  was 
the  meeting-place  of  the  wise  and  the  power- 
ful. Boccaccio  was  his  guest  here  for  many 
months ;  they  talked  and  walked,  and  they 
sailed  the  canals  and  the  lagoons  together  in 
perfect  sympathy;  and  there   still   exists  a 


17 

letter  of  Petrarch  to  Boccaccio,  asking  the 
latter  poet  to  come  again,  and  to  stay  longer 
next  time. 

Signor  N.  Barozzi,  in  a  volume  entitled 
Petrarca  e  Venezia,  published  in  Venice  in 
1874,  reprints,  from  the  old  plan  of  the  city, 
now  in  the  Archaeological  Museum,  a  rough 
sketch  of  Petrarch's  house duringhis  residence 
here  between  1362  and  1368;  and  he  seems 
to  establish  the  fact  that  it  was  hired  by  the 
poet,  not  presented  to  him  by  the  city,  as  is 
generally  believed.  It  was  then  called  the 
Palazzo  del  Molin,  and  it  stood  near  to  the 
Ponte  del  Sepolcro  on  the  Riva  degli  Schia- 
voni,  a  broad  promenade  and  wharf  a  short 
distance  east  of  the  Ducal  Palace.  This 
house,  according  to  Petrarch  himself,  was 
humble  enough ;  it  had  two  towers,  a  style 
of  architecture  not  uncommon  in  those  days ; 
and  according  to  Signor  Barozzi  it  was,  later, 
a  monastery,  and  at  the  present  time  is  oc- 
cupied as  a  barrack.  If  Signor  Barozzi  and 
the  plan  are  correct,  it  is  not  the  house 
marked  by  the  tablet,  and  pointed  out  in  the 
guide-books  as  Petrarch's,  but  the  building 


I8 

on  the  corner  of  the  little  Calle  del  Dose,  and 
some  forty  or  fifty  paces  to  the  east  of  the 
generally  accepted  spot. 

The  two  original  towers  of  the  Petrarch 
house  disappeared  long  ago  ;  the  entire  front 
is  new  and  ugly,  and  the  rear  portions,  al- 
though they  are  old  and  picturesque,  do 
not  date  back  to  the  Fourteenth  Century. 
There  is,  probably,  no  part  of  the  mansion 
left,  as  Petrarch  knew  and  loved  it,  except, 
perhaps,  the  pavement  of  the  court -yard. 
Even  the  old  marble  well  is  not  as  old  as 
the  days  of  the  great  poet.  The  interior  of 
the  establishment  is  not  now  seen  of  the 
public,  except  by  permission  of  the  military 
authorities,  but  it  is  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting of  the  Landmarks  of  Venice,  because 
of  its  association  with  the  two  immortal  men 
who  once  adorned  it. 

Petrarch  from  his  tower  had  a  perfect 
view  of  the  city  and  of  the  Adriatic,  watch- 
ing as  he  did  the  navies  of  the  then  known 
world  as  they  entered  and  left  the  harbor, 
and  looking  out  over  the  sea  and  down  upon 
the  crowds  of  busy  men.     His  life  here  was. 


19 

no  doubt,  a  happy  one ;  as  must  be  the  Hfe 
of  any  man  who  brings  to  Venice  some 
knowledge  of  its  history,  some  idea  of  its 
art,  some  fondness  for  its  traditions,  and  let- 
ters of  introduction  to  some  of  its  men  of 
mind  in  all  professions. 

Signor  Tassini  says  that  while  Petrarch 
lived  here  he  often  enjoyed  the  society  of 
his  natural  daughter,  Francesca,  who  once, 
in  this  house,  and  in  the  absence  of  her  fa- 
ther, received  the  sad  news  of  the  death,  at 
her  home  in  Pavia,  of  her  infant  child  ;  when 
Boccaccio  acted  as  comforter,  and  tried  in 
vain  to  stay  her  maternal  tears. 

Mr.  Horatio  F.  Brown  and  Mr.  Howells 
both  quote  a  letter,  written  in  Latin,  by 
Petrarch  to  his  friend  Pietro  Bolognese,  in 
which  he  describes  a  famous  festival  held  in 
the  Piazza  S.  Marco  to  celebrate  a  victory 
over  the  Greeks  in  Candia.  The  poet  was 
seated  in  the  place  of  honor,  at  the  right  of 
the  Doge,  in  the  gallery  of  the  Cathedral, 
and  in  front  of  the  bronze  horses ;  and  he 
tells  of  the  many  youths,  decked  in  purple 
and  gold,  ruling  with  the  rein,  and  urging 


20 


with  the  spur,  their  horses  in  the  then  un- 
paved  square,  and  watched  by  a  throng  of 
spectators  so  great  that  a  grain  of  barley 
could  not  have  fallen  to  the  ground.  There 
is  not  a  horse  in  all  Venice  to-day;  the 
youths  wear  ulsters  when  it  is  cold,  and  very 
little  of  anything  when  it  is  hot ;  and  every 
grain  of  barley  which  falls  to  the  ground 
is  ravenously  devoured  by  the  doves,  who 
alone  of  all  the  Venetians  wear  the  purple 
now.  If  tradition,  for  the  once,  speaks  truly, 
these  very  doves  are  the  direct  descendants 
of  the  carrier-pigeons  which  brought  to  Ad- 
miral Dandolo  information  from  spies  in 
Candia  leading  to  the  capture  of  the  island, 
and  which  may  have  received  grains  of  bar- 
ley from  the  hand  of  Petrarch  himself.  As 
such  do  the  doves  of  the  present  day  receive 
grains  of  barley  from  me. 

Mr.  Brown,  in  his  admirable  study  of  The 
Venetian  Printing  Press,  says  that  Aldus  is 
not  known,  of  a  certainty,  to  have  lived  in 
the  house,  or  even  on  the  site  of  the  house, 
No.  23 1 1  Rio  Terra  Secondo,  in  the  parish 
of  S.  Agostino,  which  is  marked  with  a  tablet 


as  his.  But  the  fact  that  there  still  exists  a 
letter  addressed  to  Gregoropoulos  at  the  little 
narrow  Calle  del  Pistor,  close  by,  and  written 
while  Gregoropoulos  was  employed  by  Al- 
dus as  corrector  of  Greek  manuscript  and 
Greek  proof,  would  seem  to  imply  that  the 
famous  printing-press  may  have  stood  in  the 
latter  street,  if  such  a  gutter  can  be  called  a 
street  at  all.  It  resembles  no  thoroughfares 
elsewhere  in  the  world  except  the  closes  of 
Edinburgh;  but  it  is  not  unlikely  to  have 
been  the  scene  of  the  birth  of  the  Aldines  so 
dearly  prized  by  the  bookworms  of  to-day. 
The  original  Aldus  is  believed  to  have  settled 
in  Venice  about  1488.  As  Mrs.  Clara  Erskine 
Clement  remarks,  he  was  no  mere  printer; 
and  although  it  is  by  that  name  now  that  he 
is  most  frequently  regarded,  he  was  a  scholar 
before  he  was  a  printer,  and  he  became  a 
printer  because  of  his  scholarship.  Concern- 
ing the  many  troublesome  visitors  to  his 
place  of  business  who  went  there  to  gossip 
and  to  kill  their  time,  Aldus  wrote,  upon  a 
later  establishment :  "  We  make  bold  to  ad- 
monish such,  in  classical  words,  in  a  sort  of 


22 


edict  placed  over  our  door,  '  Whoever  you 
are,  Aldo  requests  you,  if  you  want  anything 
ask  for  it  in  a  few  words  and  depart,  unless, 
like  Hercules,  you  come  to  lend  the  aid  of 
your  shoulders  to  the  weary  Atlas.  Here 
will  always  be  found,  in  that  case,  some- 
thing for  you  to  do,  however  many  you 
may  be.*  " 

Aldo  Pio  transferred  the  business  in,  or 
about,  1506  to  the  Campo  S.  Paternian,  now 
called  the  Campo  Manin  ;  and  there  he  lived 
and  printed  good  books  and  good  literature, 
succeeded  by  his  son  and  his  grandson.  A 
very  modern  Bank  for  Savings  now  occupies 
the  site  of  this  establishment,  and  covers 
the  entire  back  of  the  square.  But  a  mar. 
ble  tablet  of  recent  date,  placed  on  its  side, 
bears  an  inscription  to  the  effect  that  "  Aldo 
Pio,  Paolo,  and  Aldo  H.,  Manuzio,  Princes 
in  the  Art  of  Typography  in  the  Sixteenth 
Century,  diffused,  with  classic  books  from 
this  place,  a  new  light  of  cultured  wisdom  "  ; 
the  translation  being  by  Dr.  Alexander  Rob- 
ertson. This  Campo  S.  Paternian  house 
was  probably   that  which  bore  the  inscrip- 


23 

tion  quoted  above,  and  relating  to  Atlas  and 
the  intellectual  Hercules. 

According  to  tradition,  a  certain  Hercules 
named  Erasmus  came,  in  1506,  to  lend  his 
shoulder  to  the  support  of  the  load;  and 
found  something  to  do.  Erasmus  in  the 
workshop  of  Aldus,  printing,  perhaps,  his 
own  Adages,  is  a  picture  for  a  poet  or  a 
painter  to  conjure  with.  Venice  in  all  its 
glory  never  saw  a  greater  sight. 

Luther  is  known  to  have  passed  through 
Venice  a  few  years  later  than  this.  He  is 
supposed  to  have  lodged  in  the  cloisters  of 
the  Church  of  S.  Stefano  here,  on  his  way 
to  Rome,  and  to  have  celebrated  mass  at  its 
high  altar.  S.  Stefano  is  near  the  square  of 
the  same  name,  and  it  is  not  otherwise  par- 
ticularly distinguished.  It  dates  back  to  the 
end  of  the  Thirteenth  and  the  beginning  of 
the  Fourteenth  Century. 

Another  Hercules,  as  great  in  his  way  as 
was  Erasmus,  lent  the  aid  of  his  shoulders 
to  the  weary  Atlas  of  the  Aldine  Press  in 
the  Sixteenth  Century ;  to  wit,  Paolo  Sarpi, 
Scholar,  Scientist,  Philosopher,  Statesman, 


24 

Author,  and  Martyr,  whom  Gibbon  called 
"  the  incomparable  historian  of  the  Council 
of  Trent,"  and  who  is  called  by  his  present- 
day  biographer,  Dr.  Robertson,  ''  the  great- 
est of  Venetians." 

Sarpi  was  born  in  Venice,  in  1552  ;  he  was 
educated  in  Venice  ;  in  Venice  he  spent  the 
better  part  of  his  life  ;  in  Venice  he  died ; 
and  in  Venice  he  was  very  much  buried. 
He  was  brutally  stabbed  by  hired  assassins 
while  crossing  the  Ponte  dei  Pugni,  in  1607; 
but  he  recovered,  and  did  not  surrender  his 
indomitable  soul  until  1623. 

Sarpi's  posthumous  fate  for  two  centuries 
was  an  exceedingly  restless  one.  His  body 
was  interred  originally  at  the  foot  of  an 
altar  in  the  Servite  Church  here,  with  which 
he  was  intimately  associated.  In  1624  the 
Servite  friars,  warned  of  an  intended  desecra- 
tion of  his  grave,  removed  his  bones  to  a 
secret  place  in  their  monastery.  The  next 
year  they  carried  them  back  to  the  church. 
In  1722  they  were  removed  to  still  another 
part  of  the  same  church.  In  1828,  the  whole 
estabHshraent  having  become   a  ruin,  Sar- 


25 

pi's  bones  were  carried  to  the  Seminary 
belonging  to,  and  adjoining,  S.  Maria  della 
Salute.  They  were  next  transferred  to  a 
private  house  in  the  parish  of  S.  Biagio  ; 
then  they  were  kept,  for  a  time,  in  the  Li- 
brary of  Saint  Mark,  in  the  Doge's  Palace, 
and  finally  they  were  placed  under  a  slab, 
near  the  main  entrance  of  the  Church  of 
S.  Michele,  on  the  Cemetery  Island  of  that 
name,  where,  after  having  been  once  more 
disturbed,  in  1846,  it  is  to  be  hoped  they  will 
be  permitted  to  rest. 

The  church  of  the  Servites  no  longer  ex- 
ists. A  fragment  of  its  ancient  wall  and  two 
fine  old  door-ways,  however,  are  still  left. 
The  main  entrance,  long  ago  bricked  up,  re- 
mains to-day,  with  one  other  old  gate,  which 
was  the  entrance  to  the  monastery ;  and  that 
is  all.  The  larger  portion  of  the  site  of  the 
foundation  is  a  flower  garden ;  a  modern 
chapel,  dedicated  in  1894,  occupies  a  small 
corner  of  the  ground.  And  the  rest  is  an  in- 
dustrial school  for  poor  girls,  from  seven  to 
twenty-one  years  of  age,  who  here,  without 
cost  to  themselves,  are  educated  for  a  self- 


26 

supporting,  useful  life ;  as  noble  a  monu- 
ment as  Paolo  Sarpi  could  wish  or  have. 
The  remains  of  the  church  of  the  Servites 
may  be  reached  by  the  Rio  di  S.  Fosca ;  and 
they  stand  in  the  parish  of  S.  Maria  dell* 
Orto.  Here  Sarpi  wrote  his  almost  countless 
works,  from  a  Treatise  on  the  Interdict,  and 
a  History  of  Ecclesiastical  Benefices,  to  the 
History  of  the  Uscocks,  a  band  of  pirates  who 
infested  the  Dalmatian  coast. 

An  elaborate  statue  of  Sarpi,  erected  in 
1892,  is  in  the  Campo  Fosca,  near  the  scene 
of  his  attempted  murder,  and  on  his  direct 
way  between  his  cloistered  home  and  the 
Ducal  Palace.  The  Greatest  of  the  Vene- 
tians stands,  in  monumental  bronze,  with  his 
face  to  the  street  and  his  back  to  the  ca- 
nal, and  in  figure  as  well  as  in  features  he 
suggests  in  many  ways  the  younger,  and  the 
greater,  of  the  DTsraelis,  with  whom,  except 
in  nationality,  he  had  so  little  in  common. 

The  DTsraelis,  it  will  be  remembered, 
were  descended  from  a  line  of  prosperous 
Jewish  merchants  who  had  lived  here  in  the 
days  when  Venice  was  still,  in  a  measure, 


^ksi^ 


27 

the  Queen  of  the  Adriatic.  Neither  of  the 
two  men  of  the  race  who  made  it  famous  in 
the  annals  of  Hterature  was  born  here,  but 
they  were  both  of  them  visitors  here,  al- 
though neither  of  them  has  left  any  record 
as  to  where  or  when.  Isaac  D'Israeli,  how- 
ever, in  a  paper  upon  **  Venice,"  among  his 
Curiosities,  in  refuting  Byron's  statement 
that  *'  In  Venice  Tasso's  Echoes  are  no 
more,"  takes  bodily  and  literally,  without 
credit,  Goethe's  description  of  how  he  "  en- 
tered a  gondola  by  moonlight.  One  singer 
placed  himself  forwards  and  the  other  aft, 
and  then  proceeded  to  S.  Giorgio."  Then 
follow,  in  Goethe's  words,  D'Israeli's  remarks 
upon  the  music  of  the  gondoliers,  closing, 
still  in  Goethe's  words,  with  an  experience 
familiar  to  all  subsequent  visitors  here: 
*'  The  sleepy  canals,  the  lofty  buildings,  the 
splendor  of  the  moon,  the  deep  shadows  of 
the  few  gondolas  that  moved  like  spirits 
hither  and  thither,  increased  the  striking  pe- 
culiarity of  the  scene ;  and  amidst  all  these 
circumstances  it  was  easy  to  confess  the 
character  of  this  wonderful  harmony." 


28 


In  another  chapter  of  The  Curiosities, 
which  is  entitled  *'  The  Origin  of  the  News- 
paper," D'Israeli,  stealing,  perhaps,  from 
somebody  else,  tells  us  that  the  first  expres- 
sion of  Literature  in  the  form  of  a  periodi- 
cal was  made  in  Venice.  It  was,  he  says,  a 
Government  organ  originally  issued  once  a 
month ;  and  even  long  after  the  invention  of 
printing  it  appeared  in  manuscript.  It  was 
called  La  Gazetta,  he  adds,  perhaps  from 
"  gazzera,"  a  magpie,  or  chatterer,  or  more 
likely  from  "  gazzeta,"  the  small  Venetian 
coin  which  was  its  price  after  it  appeared  in 
type.  If  this  fact  establishes  another  Liter- 
ary Landmark  for  Venice,  let  Venice  have 
all  the  credit  of  it. 

Marino  Sanudo,  the  younger  and  the  great- 
er of  that  name,  was  one  of  the  early  sons  of 
Venice  who  found  his  mother  neither  nour- 
ishing, comforting,  nor  affectionate.  He  be- 
gan to  take  notes,  and  to  make  notes,  even 
as  a  child,  his  initial  researches  having  com- 
menced before  he  was  ten  years  of  age.  He 
started  his  Diary  when  he  was  about  seven- 
teen; fifty-six  volumes  of  it,  covering  a  period 


29 

of  almost  as  many  years,  are  still  in  exist- 
ence, although  not  in  Venice  ;  and  the  larger 
portions  of  them  have  been  printed.  Besides 
these,  he  published  voluminous  works,  all  of 
them  of  the  greatest  value  to  the  student  of 
the  history  of  his  native  state.  Mrs.  Oliphant 
calls  him  "  one  of  the  most  gifted  and  aston- 
ishing of  historical  moles."  The  height  of 
his  aspiration  was  the  gratitude  and  appre- 
ciation of  the  world,  by  whom  he  was  en- 
tirely forgotten  for  three  centuries  or  more, 
until  Rawdon  Brown  rescued  his  name,  and 
his  works,  from  oblivion,  and  shamed  the 
Venetians  into  marking,  in  a  suitable  way, 
the  house  in  which  he  lived  ;  although  there 
is  no  record  of  the  grave  in  which  he  was 
laid. 

Sanudo's  house  is  still  standing  on  the  cor- 
ner of  the  Fondamenta  and  the  Ponte  del 
Megio,  directly  in  the  rear  of,  and  not  far 
from,  the  Fondaco  dei  Turchi.  It  is  plain 
and  substantial,  what  is  called  a  genteel  man- 
sion, and  it  was  a  worthy  home  for  a  plain 
and  substantial  and  modest  Man  of  Letters. 
The  tablet  is  weather-worn  and  stained,  and 


30 

it  looks  much  older  than  the  days  of  Rawdon 
Brown.  The  inscription,  roughly  translated, 
states  that "  Here  dwelt  Marino  Leonardo  F. 
Sanuto,  who,  while  he  well  knew  the  history 
of  the  whole  universe,  still  wrote  with  truth 
and  fidelity  of  his  own  country  and  of  his 
own  times.     He  died  here  in  April,  1536." 

According  to  tradition,  says  Signor  Tas- 
sini,  when  Tasso  came  to  Venice  with  Al- 
fonso di  Ferrara  to  meet  Henry  HI.  of 
France,  he  lodged  in  what  is  now  known  as 
the  Fondaco  dei  Turchi,  an  Italo-Byzantine 
structure  of  the  Ninth  Century,  and  one  of 
the  oldest  secular  buildings  in  the  city.  It 
stands  on  the  Grand  Canal,  on  the  left  as 
one  sails  from  St.  Mark's  to  the  railway- 
station,  and  past  the  Rialto ;  but  it  was  en- 
tirely modernized  about  a  quarter  of  a  century 
ago,  and  it  now  contains  the  collection  of  the 
Museo  Civico.  There  is  also  a  tradition  that 
Tasso,  in  later  years,  found  refuge  in  the 
Palazzo  Contarini  delle  Figure,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Grand  Canal  and  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Rialto  Bridge.  It  is  near  to  the 
Mocenigo  Palace,  once  the  home  of  Byron. 


BYRON  S    PALACE,  VENICE 


31 

Montaigne  arrived  in  Venice  in  1580,  and 
his  remarks  about  the  city  and  its  inhabi- 
tants three  centuries  ago  are  quaint  and  en- 
tertaining. He  was  somewhat  disappointed 
in  the  show  places,  but  greatly  interested  in 
the  people.  He  recorded  that  he  hired  for 
himself  a  gondola,  which  he  was  entitled  to 
the  use  of,  night  and  day,  for  two  lire  per 
dienty  about  seventeen  sous,  as  he  explained, 
including  the  boatman.  Provisions  here  he 
found  as  dear  as  at  Paris ;  but  then,  in  other 
respects,  he  considered  it  the  cheapest  place 
in  the  world  to  live  in,  for  the  train  of  at- 
tendants which  one  required  elsewhei;e  was 
here  altogether  useless,  everybody  going 
about  by  himself,  which  made  great  saving 
in  clothes ;  and,  moreover,  one  had  no  occa- 
sion for  horses.  His  stay  here  was  very  short. 
He  said  of  Italy  generally  that  he  had  never 
seen  a  country  in  which  there  were  so  few 
pretty  women.  And  the  inns  he  found  far 
less  convenient  than  those  of  France  or  Ger- 
many. The  provisions  were  not  half  so  plen- 
tiful, and  not  nearly  so  well  dressed.  The 
houses,  too,  in  Italy  were  very  inferior ;  there 


32 

were  no  good  rooms,  and  the  large  windows 
had  no  glass  or  other  protection  against  the 
weather;  the  bedrooms  were  mere  cabins, 
and  the  beds  wretched  pallets,  running  upon 
casters,  with  a  miserable  canopy  over  them  ; 
**  and  Heaven  help  him  who  cannot  lie  hard  !" 

Milton  was  in  Venice  in  the  months  of 
April  and  May,  1639,  but  the  only  incident 
of  his  stay  here  which  he  recorded  is  that  he 
shipped  to  England  a  number  of  books  which 
he  had  collected  in  different  parts  of  Italy ; 
and  some  of  these,  we  are  told,  by  one  who 
saw  them  later  in  the  lodging-house  in  St. 
Bride's  Church-yard,  London,  were  curious 
and  rare,  "  including  a  chest  or  two  of  choice 
music-books  from  the  best  masters  flourish- 
ing then  in  Italy." 

Among  the  volumes  which  Milton  bought 
and  studied  in  Venice  was  a  history  of  the 
town,  in  Latin,  printed  by  the  Elzevirs  in 
163 1.  It  contains  the  folding-plates  of  the 
Rialto,  and  of  the  interior  of  the  Council 
Chamber  of  the  Doges,  which  are  reproduced 
here  ;  and  the  well-preserved  copy  of  the 
same  work,  bought  behind  the  Cathedral  by 


33 

the  present  chronicler,  for  a  few  lire,  he  high- 
ly prizes,  as  presenting  views  of  the  public 
places  of  Venice  contemporary  with  The 
Merchant  of  Venice  and  Othello,  and  as,  per- 
haps, having  passed  here  through  Milton's 
own  hands.  It  was  the  latest  and  most  au- 
thentic chronicle  of  its  kind  when  Venice  re- 
ceived Milton  on  the  bosoms  of  her  canals. 

John  Evelyn  came  to  Venice  in  the  month 
of  May,  1645,  and,  as  he  put  it,  as  soon  as 
he  got  ashore  his  portmanteaus  were  exam- 
ined at  the  Dogana,  and  then  he  went  to  his 
lodging,  which  was  at  honest  Signor  Rhodo- 
mante's,  at  the  Black  Eagle,  near  the  Rialto, 
one  of  the  best  quarters  of  the  town.  The 
journey  from  Rome  to  Venice,  he  stated, 
cost  him  seven  pistoles  and  thirteen  julios. 
"  Two  days  after,  taking  a  gondola,  which 
is  their  water -coach,"  he  said,  "we  rode  up 
and  down  their  canals,  which  answer  to  our 
streets.  These  vessels  are  built  very  long 
and  narrow,  having  necks  and  tails  of  steel, 
somewhat  spreading  at  the  beak,  like  a  fish's 
tail,  and  kept  so  exceedingly  polished  as  to 
give  a  great  lustre."  His  first  visit  was  to 
3 


34 

the  Rialto.  "  It  was  evening,  and  the  canal 
where  the  Noblesse  go  to  take  the  air,  as  in 
our  Hyde  Park,  was  full  of  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen. .  .  .  Next  day  I  went  to  the  Ex- 
change, a  place  like  ours,  frequented  by  mer- 
chants, but  nothing  so  magnificent.  .  .  . 
Hence  I  passed  through  the  Merceria,  one 
of  the  most  dehcious  streets  in  the  world  for 
the  sweetness  of  it  [!]  ;  and  is  all  the  way,  on 
both  sides,  tapestried,  as  it  were,  with  cloth 
of  gold,  rich  damasks  and  other  silks,  which 
the  shops  expose  and  hang  before  their 
houses  from  the  first  floor ;  ...  to  this  add 
the  perfumes,  apothecaries'  shops,  and  the 
innumerable  cages  of  nightingales,  which 
they  keep,  that  entertain  you  with  their  mel- 
ody from  shop  to  shop,  so  that  shutting  your 
eyes  you  could  imagine  yourself  in  the 
country,  when,  indeed,  you  are  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  sea."  Evelyn  left  Venice  at  the 
end  of  March,  1646. 

Ruskin,  in  The  Stones  of  Venice,  speaks  of 
"the  hostelry  of  the  Black  Eagle,  with  its 
square  door  of  marble  deeply  moulded  in  the 
outer  wall,  where  we  see  the  shadows  of  its 


ENTRANCE  TO   THE  MERCERIA 


35 

pergola  of  vines  resting  on  an  ancient  well, 
with  a  pointed  shield  carved  on  its  side." 
This  must  not  be  confounded  with  Signor 
Rhodomante's  establishment,  where  Evelyn 
was  entertained  two  centuries  earlier.  Eve- 
lyn's Black  Eagle,  after  many  inquiries  among 
the  oldest  residents  of  its  neighborhood,  and 
after  much  interesting  and  fluent  interchange 
of  bad  Italian  and  worse  English,  was  dis- 
covered to  be  the  ancient  house  near  the 
Rialto  Bridge,  now  numbered  5238  Calle  dei 
Stagneri,  on  the  Ponte  della  Fava,  and  close 
to  the  Campo  S.  Bartolommeo,  where  stands 
the  Goldoni  statue.  The  house  has  retired 
to  private  life,  and  is,  at  present,  the  home  of 
a  practising  lawyer  in  good  standing. 

Ruskin's  Black  Eagle  died  an  unnatural 
death  in  1880,  when  a  certain  unusually 
narrow  street  was  wiped  out  of  existence, 
under  the  direction  of  a  chie/  magistrate 
(whose  name  was  Dante  di  Siego  Alighieri), 
to  make  way  for  the  broad  avenue  now  known 
as  the  Street  of  the  22d  of  March.  The 
inn  was  in  a  retired  corner,  but  on  the  line 
of  travel  between  the  larger  hotels  and  the 


36 

Square  of  S.  Moise.  Not  a  stone  of  it  seems 
to  be  left  in  Venice  now. 

Ruskin  himself,  while  preserving  and  pol- 
ishing The  Stones  of  Venice^  was  very  fond 
of  an  old-fashioned  modest  little  inn,  called 
La  Calcina,  in  the  Zattere  Quarter,  on  the 
corner  of  the  Campiello  della  Calcina  and 
by  the  bridge  of  the  same  name.  Ruskin's 
rooms  were  over  the  portico,  looking  out  on 
the  Giudecca  Canal,  and  in  fair  weather  he 
breakfasted  and  dined  under  the  shadow  of 
a  pergola  of  vines  in  the  very  small  garden 
in  the  rear  of  the  house. 

On  the  Zattere  side  of  this  hostelry,  over 
a  little  gateway  in  a  passage  leading  to  the 
garden,  is  a  tablet  stating  that  here  died  the 
celebrated  poet  Apostolo  Zeno,  in  1750.  He 
v/as  born  in  Venice,  eighty-two  years  before. 
He  came  of  an  old  Venetian  family,  distin- 
guished in  the  world  of  letters.  He  was  a 
poet,  "and  the  reformer  and  renovator"  of 
the  melodrama  in  Italy,  and  he  wrote  works 
of  a  serious  as  well  as  of  a  romantic  char- 
acter. His  fine  library  is  now  a  portion  of 
the  Library  of  St.  Mark. 


37 

During  another  visit  to  Venice  Ruskin 
lived  in  the  house  of  Rawdon  Brown  (q.  v.) ; 
and  after  Mr.  Brown's  death  he  lodged  at 
the  Hotel  Europa.  All  this  information  was 
gathered  from  his  personal  guide,  who  de- 
scribed him  as  *'  a  very  curious  man,  who 
looked  at  things  with  his  eyes  shut,"  imitat- 
ing, as  he  spoke,  that  half-closed-eyelid  gaze 
of  a  near-sighted  person  so  familiar  to  all 
normally  visioned  observers. 

In  what  is  now  called  the  Casa  Brown,  a 
stone's -throw  from  the  Calcina  Inn,  and  in 
the  home  of  his  warm  friend  and  literary 
executor  Mr.  Horatio  F.  Brown,  lived  and 
worked,  while  in  Venice,  John  Addington 
Symonds,  and  herefrom  he  went,  in  the 
spring  of  1893,  to  Rome  to  die.  Symonds's 
apartments  were  on  the  lower  floor  of  the 
house,  which  stands  on  the  Bridge  and  Cam- 
piello  Incurabili,  of  the  Zattere.  In  the  up- 
per story  were  written  Mr.  Brown's  Venetian 
Studies,  Life  on  the  Lagoons,  The  Venetia^i 
Printing  Press,  etc. 

Rawdon  Brown  lived  and  died  in  the  Casa 
della  Vida;    S.   Marcuolo  —  the   address   is 


38 

taken  from  one  of  his  own  visiting-cards. 
He  occupied  the  second  and  third  floors  of 
this  house,  which  fronts  upon  the  Grand 
Canal,  nearly  opposite  the  Church  of  S.  Eusta- 
chio  ;  and  many  of  his  contemporary  Men  of 
Letters,  besides  Ruskin,  were  here  his  guests. 
He  bequeathed  his  apartments  and  their 
contents  to  two  faithful  old  servants. 

Mr.  Brown  was  buried,  in  August,  1883,  in 
the  Protestant  portion  of  the  Cemetery  of  S. 
Michele. 

Not  far  from  Brown,  in  the  same  grounds, 
lies  Eugene  Schuyler,  "Statesman,  Diplo- 
matist, Traveller,  Geographer,  Historian,  Es- 
sayist," who  died  at  the  Grand  Hotel  in 
Venice  in  1890. 

G.  P.  R.  James,  who  died  in  Venice  in 
i860,  was  buried  in  this  same  Protestant 
Cemetery.  The  tablet  over  his  grave,  black- 
ened by  time,  broken  and  hardly  decipherable, 
contains  the  following  epitaph,  said  to  have 
been  the  composition  of  Landor :  ''  His  merits 
as  a  writer  are  known  wherever  the  English 
language  is,  and  as  a  man  they  rest  on  the 
heads  of  many.     A  few  friends  have  erect- 


39 

ed  this  humble  and  perishable  monument." 
There  is  a  vague  tradition  among  the  older 
alien  residents  here  that  James  was  not 
buried  at  S.  Michele  at  all,  but  on  the  Lido, 
where  are  a  few  very  ancient  stones  and 
monuments  marking  the  graves  of  foreign 
visitors  to  Venice.  They  are  in  a  state  of 
picturesque  and  utter  dilapidation,  moss-cov- 
ered, broken,  and  generally  undecipherable; 
and  none  of  them  seem  to  be  of  later  date 
than  the  middle  of  the  Eighteenth  Century. 
They  are  within  the  ramparts  of  Forte  S. 
Nicolo,  near  the  powder-magazine,  and  are 
only  seen  by  the  consent  of  the  military  au- 
thorities, which  is  obtained  with  difficulty. 
It  is  said  that  Byron  expressed  a  wish  to 
leave  his  bones  here,  if  his  soul  should  be 
demanded  of  him  in  Italy. 

Sir  Henry  Layard  lodged  at  the  Hotel  di 
Roma  in  1867,  when  began  his  connection 
with  the  glass-works  of  Murano. 

He  did  not  purchase  the  Palazzo  Cappello, 
on  the  Grand  Canal,  corner  of  the  Rio  S. 
Polo,  until  1878.  Here  he  received  and  en- 
tertained nearly  all  the  distinguished  visitors 


40 

to  Venice,  until  the  time  of  his  death,  which 
occurred  in  London  in  1894. 

Mr.  Howells,  upon  his  first  arrival  in 
Venice,  lodged,  for  a  time,  in  the  house  of 
his  predecessor  as  American  Consul,  in  a 
little  street  behind  the  Square  of  St.  Mark. 
Then  he  removed  to  the  Campo  S.  Bartolom- 
meo,  on  the  Rialto  side  of  the  square,  and 
later  he  lived  in  the  Campo  S.  Stefano  before 
he  began  house-keeping  in  the  Casa  Falier,  a 
queer  little  mansion  on  the  right-hand  side 
of  the  Grand  Canal,  three  doors  from  the  in- 
famous Iron  Bridge.  The  Casa  Falier  has 
cage-like,  over-hanging  windows,  one  of  them 
figuring  as  "  The  Balcony  on  the  Grand 
Canal,"  from  which  he  saw,  and  set  down, 
"  sights  more  gracious  and  fairy  than  poets 
ever  dreamed." 

His  latest  house  here,  in  1864-5,  was 
in  the  Palazzo  Giustiniani  dei  Vescovi,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  thoroughfare.  It  is 
the  middle  of  three  Gothic  palaces  on  the 
Grand  Canal  which  look  towards  the  Rialto, 
are  next  to  the  Palazzo  Foscari,  and  which, 
as  some   one   has   expressed  it,  are   now  a 


CASA    FALIER,  WHERE    MR.    HOWELLS    LIVED 


41 

mosaic-mill.  Here  he  received  and  put  upon 
record  the  impressions  of  his  Venetian  Life^ 
which  have  given  so  much  pleasure  to  so 
many  readers,  in  Venice  and  out  of  it,  and 
which  have  told  us  so  many  things  we  want 
to  know  about  Venice  and  the  Venetians. 

Mr.  Charles  Dudley  Warner,  during  one 
long  and  happy  summer  in  Venice,  wrote  the 
story  of  his  Winter  on  the  Nile.  He  lived  in 
the  Barbaro  Palace,  on  the  Grand  Canal,  not 
far  from  the  Falier  house  of  Mr.  Howells,  on 
the  same  side  of  the  stream,  but  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Iron  Bridge,  and  nearly  opposite 
the  modern-mosaic-frescoed  ancient  establish- 
ment of  Murano-work,  which  Mr.  Howells 
occupied  later.  Over  the  front  door  of  Mr. 
Warner's  house  is  a  great  carved  head  of 
some  ancient  worthy,  perhaps  a  Barbaro, 
perhaps  a  saint  or  a  god,  whose  rank  or  title 
is  to-day  unknown.  Mr.  Warner's  writing 
was  done  in  a  little  room  with  a  balconied 
window,  on  the  top  floor  of  the  neighboring 
Palazzo  Fosclo. 

Of  the  other  later-day  historians  of  Venice, 
it  may  be  stated  that  Dr.  Robertson,  the  an- 


42 

nalist  of  Sarpi  and  of  St.  Mark's,  lives  in  the 
Casa  S.  Leonardo,  on  the  Rio  S.  Maria  della 
Salute,  and  by  the  side  of  the  church  of  that 
name;  that  Mr.  Augustus  J.  C.  Hare  took  most 
of  his  Walks  in  'Venice  from  the  Hotel  Milano, 
fronting  on  the  Grand  Canal ;  that  Mrs.  Clara 
Erskine  Clement  designed  her  crown  for  The 
Queen  of  the  Adriatic  at  the  Hotel  Europa  ; 
and  that  Mrs.  Oliphant  made  The  Makers  of 
Venice  in  a  house  in  the  Campo  S.  Maurizio. 

To  go  back  to  the  men  of  other  days. 
Addison  came  to  Venice  in  the  winter  of 
1 699-1 700.  His  remarks  upon  Italy  are  enter- 
taining enough,  although  of  the  guide-book 
order,  and  he  is  uniformly  silent  regarding 
his  experiences  here.  As  Walpole  said  of 
him,  he  travelled  through  the  poets  and  not 
through  Italy ;  all  his  ideas  were  borrowed 
from  the  descriptions,  not  from  the  reality, 
and  he  saw  places  as  they  had  been,  not  as 
they  were. 

Goldoni  is  one  of  the  few  native  actors 
of  Venice  who  merit  an  encore  here.  He  is 
as  interesting  to-day  as  he  was  to  the  audi- 
ences who  crowded  the  theatres  of  Venice  to 


GOLDONIS    STAIRCASE 


43 

witness  his  performances.  He  seems  to  have 
been  born  in  the  Calle  dei  Nomboli,  at  the 
corner  of  the  Ponte  and  the  Fondamenta  S. 
Tom^,  in  the  fine  old  house  which  contains 
the  medalHon  portrait  of  the  poet,  and  an 
inscription  stating  that  here  Carlo  Goldoni 
first  saw  the  light  in  1707.  It  is  still  known 
as  the  Palazzo  Centani,  and  it  still  possesses 
a  beautiful  Gothic  staircase,  upon  the  railing 
of  which  a  little  marble  lion  still  placidly 
sits.  But,  as  Mr.  Howells  points  out,  not- 
withstanding the  assertions  of  the  guides  and 
the  guide-books  to  the  contrary,  the  drama- 
tist could  hardly  have  written  many  of  his 
immortal  comedies  here,  unless  he  was  un- 
usually precocious  even  for  a  poet,  for  he 
was  a  small  child  when  his  family  moved 
to  Chioggia. 

Signor  Tassini  says  that  Goldoni  was  once 
a  resident  in  the  Campo  Rusolo,  called  also 
Campo  Canova.  The  modern  statue  to 
Goldoni,  1883,  with  its  harmonious  base, 
stands  in  the  Campo  S.  Bartolommeo,  near 
the  Rialto  Bridge.  And  there  is  a  tradition 
that  Goldoni  was  at  one  time  in  some  way 


44 

associated  with  the  present  Teatro  Minerva 
in  the  Calle  del  Teatro  S.  Mois^,  off  the 
modernized  Via  22  Marzo,  and  now  the  home 
of  the  intellectual  Marionettes. 

In  an  elaborate  and  very  carefully  pre- 
pared volume,  entitled  J.  J.  Rousseau  a  Ve~ 
nisej  ly^j-i'/^/j.,  written  by  M.  Victor  Cere- 
sole,  and  published  in  Geneva  and  in  Paris 
in  1885,  the  writer  proves  very  conclusive- 
ly that  Rousseau  did  not  remain  so  long  in 
Venice  as  Rousseau  declared  he  did  in  the 
Confessions ;  and  he  points  out,  upon  contem- 
poraneous documentary  evidence,  that  Rous- 
seau occupied  the  tall  thin  house  in  the  Cana- 
^eggio  Quarter,  which  is  to-day  on  the  Fonda- 
menta  delle  Penitente,  and  bears  the  num- 
ber 968.  It  is  the  warehouse  of  a  firm  of 
wood  merchants,  who  have  removed  the 
grand  staircase  and  have  utilized  a  greater 
part  of  the  aristocratic  old  mansion,  which 
was  once  the  home  of  a  powerful  Venetian 
family,  and  later  of  the  Spanish  Ambassa- 
dors, as  a  storehouse  for  their  merchandise, 
imported  from  the  mountains  of  Cadore,  the 
land  of  Titian,  and  retailed  by  the  innkeep- 


/^-  '^..^^ 


GOLDONI S    STATUE 


45 

ers  of  the  present  at  seventy  cents  an  arm- 
ful. Rousseau  lived  long  enough  in  Venice 
to  have  added  to  his  own  innate  power  of 
invention  some  of  the  Venetian  love  of  ex- 
aggeration ;  and  if,  in  his  Confessions,  he  in- 
creased the  length  of  his  stay  here  by  at 
least  one -third,  it  is  not  easy  to  say  how 
much  of  what  he  said  he  did  here  is  fiction 
or  fact. 

Upon  the  Ramo  dei  Fuseri  side  of  the 
Hotel  Victoria  and  upon  the  little  bridge  of 
the  same  name  is  a  tablet  bearing  the  fol- 
lowing inscription :  "  Goethe  wohnte  hier  28 
Sep.-iA,  Oct,  MDCCLXXXVir  Notwith- 
standing the  bad  reputation  for  veracity 
which  the  Venetian  tablets  generally  have 
achieved  for  themselves,  and  despite  the  ex- 
traordinarily free  and  phonetic  translation  of 
a  distinguished  American  artist  from  Hart- 
ford, Connecticut,  to  the  effect  that  Goethe 
"  weren't  here,"  it  seems  from  his  own  con- 
fessions that  Goethe  was  here,  on  this  iden- 
tical spot,  and  at  that  particular  period  of 
his  existence,  for  he  wrote :  "  I  am  comfort- 
ably housed  in  'The  Queen  of  England'  [so 


46 

named  in  honor  of  the  consort  of  George 
III.],  not  far  from  St.  Mark's  Square,  and 
this  is  the  greatest  advantage  of  my  quar- 
ters. My  windows  look  out  on  a  small  ca- 
nal between  high  houses ;  directly  under  me 
is  an  arched  bridge,  and  opposite  a  densely 
populated  alley.  So  live  I,  and  so  shall  I  for 
some  time  remain,  until  my  packet  is  ready 
for  Germany,  and  until  I  have  had  a  surfeit 
of  the  pictures  of  the  city.  The  loneliness  I 
have  sighed  for  with  such  passionate  longing 
I  now  enjoy.  I  know  perhaps  only  one  man 
in  Venice,  and  I  am  not  likely  to  meet  him 
in  some  time." 

How  much  Goethe  did  for  Venice,  and  for 
the  Hotel  of  the  English  Queen,  Goethe  him- 
self probably  never  knew.  But  ever  since 
Goethe  expressed,  in  print,  his  romantic  love 
for  the  place,  German  brides  have  been  com- 
ing here  on  their  wedding -trips,  and  have 
been  trying  to  see  Venice  as  Goethe  saw  it, 
and  have  been  quoting  Goethe  to  their  hus- 
bands-of-a-day-or-two,  and  have  been  pre- 
tending an  enthusiasm  for  Venice  which  they 
do  not  always  feel,  simply  because,  somehow. 


47 

this  is  considered,  on  Goethe's  account,  the 
proper  thing  for  German  brides  to  do. 

The  biographers  of  Samuel  Rogers  have 
printed  only  fragmentary  portions  of  the  Di- 
ary and  Letters  written  during  his  visit  to 
Italy  in  1814,  and  very  few  of  his  personal 
experiences  here  have  been  preserved.  We 
learn  that  Venice  greatly  delighted  him,  and 
that  he  was  particularly  fond  of  loitering 
about  the  Square  of  St.  Mark.  No  doubt 
he  was  wont  to  break  his  fast  at  the  Restau- 
rant Quadri,  and  very  likely  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  break  the  fast  of  the  doves  who 
loitered  there  too. 

Byron  spent  the  winter  of  i8i6-*i7  in 
Venice.  On  the  17th  of  November,  18 16, 
he  wrote  to  Moore :  "  I  have  fallen  in  love, 
which,  next  to  falling  into  the  canal  (which 
would  be  of  no  use,  as  I  can  swim),  is  the 
best,  or  the  worst,  thing  I  could  do.  I  have 
got  some  extremely  good  apartments  in  the 
house  of  a  Merchant  of  Venice,  who  is  a 
good  deal  occupied  with  business,  and  has 
a  wife  in  her  twenty -second  year."  He 
spoke  more  than  once  of  these  lodgings,  but 


48 

he  gave  no  hint  as  to  where  they  were,  and  he 
asked  Murray  to  address  him  Poste  Restante. 
Moore,  however,  says  that  for  many  months 
he  continued  to  occupy  the  same  rooms  "  in 
an  extremely  narrow  street,  called  the  Spez- 
zeria,  at  the  house  of  a  linen-draper." 

The  Spezzeria  is  not  a  street,  but  a  dis- 
trict of  the  town,  near  the  Rialto  Quarter. 
It  was  devoted,  in  Byron's  day,  to  the  deal- 
ers in  spices.  His  Merchant  of  Venice,  there- 
fore, should  have  been  a  vender  of  drugs, 
sugars,  coffees,  spices,  wax -candles  and  the 
like,  in  wholesale.  But,  alas  for  the  romance 
of  it  all !  tradition,  in  Venice,  says  that  he 
was  a  plain,  commonplace  baker  who  lived, 
in  good  enough  style,  not  in  the  Spezzeria, 
but  in  the  Frezzeria,  the  Street  of  the  Makers 
of  Arrows. 

In  December  Byron  Avrote  to  Murray: 
"  I  have  begun,  and  am  proceeding  in,  a 
study  of  the  Armenian  language,  which  I 
acquire,  as  well  as  I  can,  at  the  Armenian 
Convent  here,  where  I  go  every  day  to  take 
lessons  of  a  learned  friar,  and  have  gained 
some  singular  and  not  useless  information 


49 

with  regard  to  the  literature  and  customs 
of  that  Oriental  people.  They  have  an  es- 
tablishment here — a  church  and  convent  of 
ninety  monks,  very  learned  and  accomplished 
men,  some  of  them.  They  have  also  a  press, 
and  make  great  efforts  for  the  enlightening 
of  their  nation.  I  find  the  language  (which 
is  twin,  the  literal  and  the  vulgar)  difficult, 
but  not  invincible  (at  least  I  hope  not).  I 
shall  go  on.  I  found  it  necessary  to  twist 
my  mind  *  round  some  severe  study ;  and 
this,  as  being  the  hardest  I  could  devise 
here,  will  be  a  file  for  the  serpent." 

He  twisted  his  mind  around  the  Armenian 
tongue  for  upwards  of  half  a  year,  a  long 
time  for  Byron  ;  and  his  memory  is  still  held 
dear  among  the  Armenian  brothers,  although, 
of  course,  none  of  those  are  left  now  who 
remember  him  personally;  and  there  are 
only  a  few  relics  of  him  to  be  found  here. 
A  poor  portrait,  not  contemporaneous;  his 
desk ;  his  inkstand ;  his  pen ;  and  some  of 
his  manuscript  Armenian  exercises  are  rev- 
erently preserved.  An  aged  monk  who  came 
to  Venice   after   Byron's  day  showed    me, 


50 

one  sunny  afternoon,  his  own  apartment, 
which  he  said  had  once  been  the  English 
poet's.  Although  large  and  comfortable, 
and  scrupulously  clean,  it  is  scantily  and 
plainly  furnished,  and  is  not  very  inviting  in 
itself.  It  has  but  one  window,  which  is  al- 
most directly  over  the  main  entrance  of  the 
establishment,  with  an  outlook  on  to  the 
little  canal  and  the  open  waters  beyond. 
The  beautiful  old  monastery,  with  its  more 
beautiful  old  garden,  is  peaceful  and  rest- 
ful ;  far  from  the  madding  crowd,  and  sur- 
rounded by  an  air  of  intellect  and  learning 
which  might  tempt  one  to  try  to  twist  one's 
mind  around  something  sweet  and  nourish- 
ing for  one's  own  sake,  if  not  for  Byron's. 

On  the  14th  June,  18 17,  Byron  wrote  to 
Murray  again,  this  time  from  "  the  banks  of 
the  Brenta,  a  few  miles  from  Venice,  where 
I  have  colonized  for  six  months  to  come." 
He  was  again  in  Venice  in  1818  and  1819, 
and  he  wrote,  '*  I  transport  my  horse  to  the 
Lido  bordering  the  Adriatic  (where  the  fort 
is),  so  that  I  get  a  gallop  of  some  miles  daily 
along  the  strip  of  beach  which  reaches  to 


51 

Malamocco."  At  this  period  he  was  occu- 
pying the  centre  of  the  three  Mocenigo  Pal- 
aces, on  the  Grand  Canal. 

Moore  met  Byron  in  Venice  in  1819,  and 
he  describes  the  five  or  six  days  they  spent 
together  here.  He  found  Byron  with  whis- 
kers, and  fuller  both  in  face  and  person  than 
when  he  had  seen  him  last,  and  leading  any- 
thing but  a  reputable  life.  In  Venice  por- 
tions of  Majifred,  Childe  Harold^  and  Don 
Juan  were  written. 

Bakers  and  poets,  in  Venice,  seem  to  have 
a  mutual  attraction,  for  there  are  men  still 
living  here  who  remember  Gautier  when  he 
was  a  lodger  over  the  baker's  shop  in  the 
Campo  S.  Mois^,  on  the  left-hand  side,  and 
opposite  the  corner  of  the  church,  as  one 
goes  towards  the  Square  of  St.  Mark.  His 
landlord,  like  Byron's,  was  a  Merchant  of 
Venice  in  bread  and  cakes,  in  a  retail  way ; 
and  the  establishment  is  still  to  be  seen  on 
the  same  spot,  its  window  filled  with  the 
staff  of  life  of  all  sizes  and  in  every  shape, 
some  of  the  latter  often  fantastic. 

The   gondolas  of  Venice  have  frequent- 


52 

\y  been  compared  to  hearses,  but  Shelley 
likened  them  to  "moths,  of  which  a  coffin 
might  have  been  the  chrysalis."  Clara  Shel- 
ley, a  daughter  of  the  poet,  died  "  at  an  inn  " 
in  Venice  in  1818,  and  "she  sleeps  on  bleak 
Lido,  near  Venetian  seas." 

In  Julian  and  Maddalo,  written  in  18 18, 
Shelley  tells  us  how  he — 

"...  rode  one  evening  with  Count  Maddalo 
Upon  the  bank  of  sand  which  breaks  the  flow 
Of  Adria  towards  Venice :  a  bare  strand 
Of  hillocks,  heaped  from  ever-shifting  sand, 
Matted  with  thistles  and  amphibious  weeds, 
Such  as  from  earth's  embrace  the  salt  ooze  breeds, 
Is  this;  an  uninhabited  sea-side, 
Which  the  lone  fisher,  when  his  nets  are  dried, 
Abandons;  and  no  other  object  breaks 
The  waste,  but  one  dwarf  tree  and  some  few  stakes. 
Broken  and  unrepaired,  and  the  tide  makes 
A  narrow  space  of  level  sand  thereon. 
Where  'twas  our  wont  to  ride  while  day  went 

down. 
This  ride  was  my  delight." 

The  Lido,  of  course,  is  here  referred  to. 
Later,  in  the  same  poem,  he  says : 


53 

"  Servants  announced  the  gondola,  and  we 
Through  the  fast-falling  rain  and  high-wrought 

sea 
Sailed  to  the  island  where  the  mad-house  stands." 

Elsewhere  he  speaks  of  "ocean's  nurse- 
ling, Venice  " ;  but  he  never  states  where  he 
lodged  in  Venice  during  any  of  his  brief  vis- 
its here. 

Scott  arrived  in  Venice  on  the  19th  of 
May,  1832,  and  he  remained  here  until  the 
23d.  His  biographer  says  that  he  showed 
no  curiosity  about  anything  but  the  Bridge 
of  Sighs  and  the  adjoining  dungeons,  down 
into  which  latter  he  would  scramble,  though 
the  exertion  was  exceedingly  painful  to  him. 
It  is  not  recorded  where  he  lodged  here,  and 
he  went  slowly  and  sadly  home  to  die. 

George  Sand  and  Alfred  de  Musset  spent 
a  number  of  months,  in  1833-34,  at  the  Ho- 
tel Danieli,  and  there  De  Musset  was  very 
ill  of  a  brain-fever,  caused,  according  to  the 
story  of  old  residents,  by  Mme.  Dudevant's 
desertion  of  him,  although  other,  and  perhaps 
better,  authorities  declare  that  she  never  left 
his  bedside  until  he  was  pronounced  out  of 


54 

danger.  All  statements  agree,  however,  that 
she  was  not  with  him  when  his  brother  came 
for  him,  in  the  spring  of  1834,  and  carried 
him  back  to  Paris. 

James  Fenimore  Cooper,  on  his  arrival 
here  in  1838,  ''spent  a  day  or  two  at  the 
Hotel  Leone  Bianco,  on  the  northwest  side 
of  the  Square";  but  later  he '' took  apart- 
ments near  the  Palazzo,  where  he  set  up  his 
own  gondola."  He  did  what  we  all  do  on 
our  first  visit  to  Venice  ;  but  his  conclusions 
are  so  unlike  those  of  most  of  us  that  they 
are  worth  recording.  ''Although  Venice  was 
attractive  at  first,"  he  says,  "  in  the  absence 
of  acquaintances  it  became  monotonous  and 
wearying.  A  town  in  which  the  sound  of 
wheels  and  hoofs  is  never  known,  in  which 
the  stillness  of  the  narrow,  ravine-like  canals 
is  seldom  broken,  unless  by  the  fall  of  an  oar 
or  the  cry  of  a  gondolier,  fatigues  one  by  its 
unceasing  calm.  I  do  not  remember  to  have 
been  so  much  struck  with  any  place  on  enter- 
ing it.  I  do  not  recollect  ever  to  have  been 
so  soon  tired  of  a  residence  in  a  capital." 

The  very  absence  of  the  noise  of  hoof  and 


55 

wheel,  the  very  silence  of  which  he  com- 
plains, are,  to  most  tired-minded  travellers, 
the  greatest  of  the  charms  of  the  capital  city 
of  Venice.  But  happily  we  each  have  our 
own  points  of  view. 

Dickens  came  first  to  Venice  in  1844,  when 
he  wrote  to  Forster :  '*  Here  I  sit  in  the  sober 
solitude  of  a  famous  inn,  with  the  great  bell 
of  St.  Mark  ringing  twelve  at  my  elbow ; 
with  three  arched  windows  in  my  room  (two 
stories  high)  looking  down  upon  the  Grand 
Canal,  and  away,  beyond,  to  where  the  sun 
went  down  to-night  in  a  blaze."  He  did 
not  tell  the  name  of  the  famous  inn ;  but 
it  sounds  like  Hotel  Danieli.  Elsewhere  he 
said  to  the  same  correspondent :  "  My  Dear 
Fellow — Nothing  in  the  world  that  you  have 
ever  heard  of  Venice  is  equal  to  the  magnif- 
icent and  stupendous  reality;  the  wildest 
visions  of  The  Arabian  Nights  are  nothing 
to  the  Piazza  of  St.  Mark,  and  the  first  im- 
pression of  the  inside  of  the  Church.  The 
gorgeous  and  wonderful  reality  of  Venice  is 
beyond  the  fancy  of  the  wildest  dreamer. 
Opium  couldn't  build  such  a  place,  and  en- 


56 

chantment  couldn't  shadow  it  forth  in  vis- 
ion." In  1853  he  wrote  to  Forster :  **  We 
live  in  the  same  house  I  lived  in  nine  years 
ago,  and  have  the  same  sitting-room — close 
to  the  Bridge  of  Sighs  and  the  Palace  of  the 
Doges.  The  room  is  at  the  corner  of  the 
house,  and  there  is  a  narrow  street  of  water 
running  round  the  side."  Again,  no  doubt, 
Hotel  Danieli. 

In  1845  Mrs.  Jameson  wrote  to  Catharine 
Sedgwick:  "Did  you  visit  Venice?  I  for- 
get. In  the  world  there  is  nothing  like  it. 
It  seems  to  me  that  we  can  find  a  similitude 
for  everything  else,  but  Venice  is  like  noth- 
ing else — Venice  the  beautiful,  the  wonder- 
ful. I  had  seen  it  before,  but  it  was  as  new 
to  me  as  if  unbeheld ;  and  every  morning 
when  I  arose  I  was  still  in  the  same  state  of 
wonder  and  enchantment."  She  made  sev- 
eral visits  to  Venice,  but  she  gave  no  hint  as 
to  her  places  of  lodgement  here. 

George  Eliot  and  Lewes  arrived  in  Venice 
on  the  night  of  the  4th  June,  i860.  "What 
stillness !"  she  wrote,  "  what  beauty  !  Look- 
ing out  from  the  high  windows  of  our  hotel,  I 


THE   "NOAH    corner"    OF   THE   DOGe's    PALACE 


57 

felt  it  was  a  pity  to  go  to  bed.  Venice  was 
more  beautiful  than  romance  had  feigned." 

On  the  15th  May,  1864,  she  wrote  to  the 
Trollopes,  from  the  Hotel  de  Ville:  "We 
reached  Venice  three  days  ago,  and  have  the 
delight  of  finding  everything  more  beautiful 
than  it  was  to  us  four  years  ago."  Her  last 
visit  to  Venice  was  made  with  Mr.  Cross, 
in  the  summer  of  1880,  when  her  husband 
was  very  ill  at  the  Hotel  Europa. 

Nearly  opposite  the  Europa,  on  the  Grand 
Canal,  stands  the  Casa  Simitecolo,  in  the 
parish  of  S.  Gregorio,  where  Miss  Constance 
Fenimore  Woolson  died,  on  the  24th  January, 
1894.  She  had,  during  the  preceding  year, 
occupied  apartments  in  the  Casa  Biondetti, 
on  the  same  side  of  the  Canal,  but  nearer 
the  Suspension  -  Bridge.  As  was  her  own 
desire.  Miss  Woolson  was  buried  in  the 
Protestant  Cemetery  in  Rome. 

Mr.  Hare  says  that  Chateaubriand  was  once 
a  guest  at  the  Europa ;  and  that  Wagner,  in 
the  same  house,  wrote  a  certain  Literary- 
Musical  Landmark,  called  Tristram  and 
Isolde.    Wagner  died  in  1883,  in  the  Palazzo 


58 

Vendramin  Calerghi,  on  the  Grand  Canal,  a 
fine  mansion,  dating  back  to  the  end  of  the 
Fifteenth  Century.  It  is  opposite  the  Museo 
Civico,  and  is  sometimes  called  the  ''  Noii 
Nobis  Palace,"  because  of  the  inscription 
''  Non  Nobis  Doniine,  Non  Nobis,''  in  great 
letters  across  its  front. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1869,  Helen  Hunt 
wrote:  ''We  are  most  comfortably  established 
at   the    Hotel  Vittoria,    not   on   the   Grand 

Canal,  thank  Heaven !    When  N at  first 

said  that  she  did  not  dare  to  stay  on  the 
Grand  Canal,  because  she  feared  too  much 
sea  air,  I  was  quite  dismayed.  But  now  I  am 
thankful  enough  to  have  dry  land,  that  is,  a 
stone  floor  laid  on  piles,  on  one  side  of  our 
house.  I  look  down  from  any  window  into 
one  of  the  cracks  called  streets ;  the  people 
look  as  if  they  were  being  threaded  into 
the  Scriptural  needle's  eye,  and  a  hand- 
organ  looks  like  a  barricade."  "  Cracks  called 
streets"  is  good. 

On  "Thanksgiving  Day,  1873,"  Lowell 
wrote  to  Thomas  Hughes:  "To-day  the 
weather  is  triumphant,  and  my  views  of  life 


59 

consequently  more  cheerful.  It  is  so  warm 
that  we  are  going  out  presently  in  the  gon- 
dola, to  take  up  a  few  dropped  stitches. 
Venice,  after  all,  is  incomparable,  and  during 
this  visit  I  have  penetrated  into  little  slits 
of  streets  in  every  direction  on  foot.  The 
canals  only  give  one  a  visiting  acquaintance. 
The  calli  make  you  an  intimate  of  the  house- 
hold." 

In  October,  1881,  Lowell  wrote  to  Mr. 
Gilder  from  Hotel  Danieli:  "It  is  raining; 
never  mind,  I  am  in  Venice.  Sirocco  is  do- 
ing his  worst ;  I  defy  him,  I  am  in  Venice.  I 
am  horribly  done ;  but  what  can  I  expect  ? 
I  am  in  Venice." 

Lord  Houghton  was  living  in  1878  at  the 
Pension  Suisse,  or  Hotel  de  Rome,  on  the 
Grand  Canal. 

In  1878  Browning  was  at  the  Albergo  dell' 
Universo,  the  Palazzo  Brandolin-Rota,  on  the 
shady  side  of  the  Grand  Canal,  just  below  the 
Accademia  and  the  Suspension-Bridge.  Here 
he  remained  for  a  fortnight ;  and  he  visited 
the  same  hotel  again  in  1879,  ^^So,  and  1881. 
In  1885  he  occupied  a  suite  of  rooms  in  the 


6o 

Palazzo  Alvise,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Grand  Canal,  and  about  midway  between  the 
Grand  Hotel  and  the  Hotel  Grande  Bretagne  ; 
and  during  the  same  year  he  entered  into 
negotiations  for  the  purchase  of  the  Palazzo 
Montecuccoli,  next  door  to  the  Albergo  dell' 
Universo,  which  he  used  to  frequent.  He 
wrote :  "  It  is  situated  on  the  Grand  Canal, 
and  is  described  by  Ruskin — to  give  no  other 
authority  —  as  *a  perfect  and  only  rich  ex- 
ample of  Byzantine  Renaissance :  its  warm 
yellow  marbles  are  magnificent.'  And  again, 
*  an  exquisite  example  [of  Byzantine  Renais- 
sance] as  applied  to  domestic  architecture.' 
So  testifies  The  Stones  of  Venice^  He  never 
owned  the  palace,  however,  the  foundations 
of  the  house  proving  insecure. 

During  the  last  year  of  his  life  he  lived  in 
a  beautifully  restored  palace  on  the  Grand 
Canal.  It  is  one  of  the  finest  private  resi- 
dences in  Europe ;  but  as  it  is  now  the  home 
of  the  poet's  son,  it  is  not,  of  course,  except 
in  his  absence,  open  to  the  public  view.  It 
contains  many  original  portraits  of  Robert 
and  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning,  by  different 


THE   HOUSE    IN    WHICH    BROWNING    DIED 


6i 


artists  and  at  different  ages,  a  number  of 
bronze  and  marble  busts  of  them  by  the 
present  occupant,  and  notably  their  private 
libraries.  Never  was  seen  such  a  collection 
of  absolutely  invaluable  "presentation  cop- 
ies" from  all  the  writers  of  note  who  were 
the  contemporaries  and  the  friends  of  the 
wonderfully  gifted  husband  and  wife.  To 
at  least  one  visitor  to  Venice  it  is  the 
most  interesting  spot  in  the  interesting 
city ;  and  he  would  rather  be  the  possessor 
of  that  private  library  than  of  all  the  rest 
of  the  great  treasures  of  Venice  put  to- 
gether. 

Off  the  library,  and  on  what,  for  want  of  a 
better  term,  may  be  called  the  drawing-room 
floor,  is  a  bow-windowed  recess  delicately  and 
exquisitely  decorated  in  white  and  gold.  It 
was  originally  the  private  chapel  of  that 
member  of  the  Rezzonico  family  who  be- 
came Pope  Clement  XIII. ;  and,  carefully 
restored,  it  has  been  dedicated  by  the  hus- 
band and  the  son  to  the  memory  of  Mrs. 
Browning.  It  is  plainly  visible  from  the 
larger  and  the  smaller  canal ;  but  it  was  not 


62 

intended  for  the  world  to  see,  and  what  is  its 
nature,  and  what  its  contents,  I  have  no  right 
yet,  and  no  wish  here,  to  disclose. 

On  the  side  of  the  Browning  Palace,  above 
the  little  Canal  of  S.  Barnaba,  and  immedi- 
ately below  the  windows  of  the  poet's  bed- 
room, is  a  tablet  with  this  inscription, 

"Robert  Browning  died  in  this  house  I2th 
December,  1889. 

"Open  my  heart  and  you  will  see 
Graved  inside  of  it  *  Italy.' " 

This  Rezzonico  Palace  was  purchased  by 
Mrs.  Robert  Barrett  Browning  in  1888,  and 
here  at  the  close  of  the  next  year  the  poet 
died.  He  had  said  to  Miss  Browning,  not 
very  long  before,  that  he  wished  to  be 
buried  wherever  he  might  chance  to  breathe 
his  last :  if  in  England,  by  the  side  of  his 
mother;  if  in  France,  by  the  side  of  his 
father ;  if  in  Italy,  by  the  side  of  his  wife. 
Further  interments  having  been  prohibited 
in  the  English  Cemetery  in  Florence,  where 
lies  his  wife,  his  body  was  placed  tempo- 
rarily in  the  chapel  of  the  Mortuary  Island 


63 


of  S.  Micliele  here.  A  few  days  later  he  was 
laid  at  rest  in  the  Poets'  Corner  at  Westmin- 
ster Abbey,  with  *'  Italy  "  graved  inside  his 
heart. 


INDEX  OF  PERSONS 


Addison,  Joseph,  42. 
Aldo  II.,  Manuzio,  22. 
Aldo,  Paolo,  22. 
Aldo,  Pio,  20-22. 

Barozzi,  N.,  quoted,  17. 

Boccaccio,  16-19. 

Bollani,  Bishop,  quoted, 
II. 

Bolognese,  Pietro,  19. 

Brown,  Horatio  F.,  37. 

Brown,  Horatio  F.,  quot- 
ed, 19.  20-21. 

Brown,  Rawdon,  37-38. 

Brown,  Rawdon,  quoted, 
8,  29-30, 

Browning, Elizabeth  Bar- 
rett, 60-61. 

Browning,  Robert,  59-63. 

Byron,  Lord,  30,  38,  47- 

51. 
Byron,  Lord,  quoted,  27. 

Ceresole,  Victor, 

quoted,  44. 
Chateaubriand,  57. 
Cinthio,  G.B.,  quoted,  11. 
Clement,  Clara  Erskine, 

42. 
Clement,  Clara  Erskine, 

quoted,  21. 


Cooper, James  Fenimore, 

54-55. 

Dickens,  Charles,  55- 

56. 
Disraeli,   Benjamin,   26- 

27. 
D'Israeli,  Isaac,  26-27. 
D'Israeli,  Isaac,  quoted, 

v.,  27-28. 
Dudevant,  Mme.,  53-54. 
Duse,  Elenora,  9-10. 

"  Eliot.George,"  56-57. 
Elze,  Th.,  quoted,  6-7. 
Erasmus,  23. 
Evans,  Mary  Anne,   56- 

57. 
Evelyn,  John,  33-34. 

FURNESS.HORACE  HOW- 
ARD, quoted,  6-7. 

Gautier,  Th^ophile, 

51. 

"  George  Eliot,"  56-57. 

•'  George  Sand,"  53-54. 

Gibbon,    Edward,   quot- 
ed, 24. 

Goethe,  45-47. 

Goethe,  quoted,  i,  27. 


66 


Goldoni,  Carlo,  42-44. 
Goldsmith,  Oliver,  7. 
Gregoropoulos,  21. 

Hare,  Augustus  J.  C, 

42. 
Hare,    Augustus   J.    C, 

quoted,  lo-ii,  57. 
Houghton,  Lord,  59. 
Howells,  William  Dean, 

40-41. 
Howells,  William   Dean, 

quoted,  5,  11,  19. 
Hunt,  Helen,  58. 

James,  G.  P.  R.,  38-39. 
Jameson,  Anna,  56. 

Landor,  Walter  Sav- 
age, quoted,  38-39. 

Layard,  Sir  Henry,  39- 
40. 

Lewes,    George    Henry, 

56-57. 
Lowell,    James    Russell, 

58-59. 
Luther,  Martin,  23. 

Milton,  John,  32-33. 
Montaigne,  31-32. 
Moore,  Thomas,  quoted, 

48,  51. 
Moro,  Christoforo,   7,  8, 

9-10. 
Musset,  Alfred  de,  53-54. 

Oliphant,    Margaret 

W.,  42. 
Oliphant,   Margaret  W., 

quoted,  29. 


Petrarch,  16-20. 
Polo,  Marco,  13-15. 
Polo,  Nicolo,  14-15. 

Robertson,  Alexan- 
der, 41-42. 

Robertson,  Alexander, 
quoted,  22,  24. 

Rogers,  Samuel,  47. 

Rousseau,  J.  J.,  44-45. 

Ruskin,  John,  36,  37. 

Ruskin,  John,  quoted,  i, 
34-35,  60. 

"  Sand,  George,"  53-54. 
Sanudo,  Marino,  28-30. 
Sarpi,  Paolo,  23-26. 
Schuyler,  Eugene,  38. 
Scott,  Walter,  53. 
Shakspere,  4,  d-^j. 
Shakspere,  quoted,  4,  13. 
Shelley,  Percy  B.,  52-53. 
Symonds,  John  Adding- 
ton,  37. 

Tassini,  Giuseppe, 
quoted,  8-9,   19,  30, 

43. 
Tasso,  30. 

Wagner,  Richard,  57- 
58. 

Walpole,  Horace,  quot- 
ed, 42. 

Warner,  Charles  Dudley, 
41. 

Woolson,  Constance 
Fenimore,  57. 

Zeno,  Apostolo,  36. 


INDEX   OF   PLACES 


ACCADEMIA,  59. 

Agostino,  S.,  Parish,  20, 

21. 
Alvise,  Palazzo,  60. 
Armenian  Convent,  48- 

50. 

Barbaro,  Palazzo,  41. 
Barnaba,  S.,  Canale,  62. 
Bartolommeo,  S.,  Campo, 

35.  40,  43. 

Biagio,  S.,  Parish,  25. 

Biondetti,  Casa,  57. 

Black  Eagle,  Inn,  Eve- 
lyn's, 33-35. 

Black  Eagle,  Inn,  Rus- 
kin's,  34-36. 

Brandolin  -  Rota,  Palaz- 
zo, 59. 

Brenta,  The,  50. 

Briati,  Fondamenta,  2. 

Bridge  of  Sighs,  53,  56. 

Brown,  Casa,  37. 

Calcina,      Campiello 

DELLA,  36. 

Calcina,  Ponte  della,  36. 
Calcina,  Inn,  36,  37. 
Calle : 

Dose,  del,  18. 


Nomboli,  dei,  43. 

Pistor,  del,  21. 

Stagneri,  dei,  35. 

Teatro,  del,  S.  Moise, 
44. 
Campo  or  Campiello : 

Bartolommeo,   S.,    35, 
40,  43. 

Calcina,  della,  36. 

Canova,  43. 

Carmine,  del,  7,  8. 

Fosca,  26. 

Incurabili,  37. 

Manin,  22-23. 

Maurizio,  S,,  42. 

Moise,  S.,  36,  51. 

Paternian,  S.,  22-23. 

Rusolo,  43. 

Stefano,  S.,  23,  40. 
Canale : 

Barnaba,  S.,  62. 

Calcina,  della,  36. 

Carmine,  del,  7. 

Giudecca,  36. 

Grand  Canal,  9,  30,  38, 
39,  40,41.42,  51,  55, 
57,  59,  60,  61. 
Canareggio,  District,  10, 

I3>  44. 
Canova,  Campo,  43. 


68 


Cappello,  Palazzo,  39-40. 
Carmine,  Campo    del,  7 

8. 
Carmine,  Canale  del,  7. 
Casa: 

Biondetti,  57. 

Brown,  37. 

Falier,  40-41. 

Leonardo,  S.,  42. 

Simitecolo,  57. 

Vida  della,  37-38. 
Centani,  Palazzo,  43. 
Chioggia,  43. 
Churches  : 

Eustachio,  S.,  38. 

Giobbe,  S.,  10. 

Giorgio,  S.,  27. 

Lorenzo,  S.,  15-16. 

Maria  della  Salute,  S., 
25,  42. 

Michele,  S.,  25. 

Moise,  S.,  51. 

Servite,  24-26. 

Stefano,  S.,  23. 
Cicogna,  Palazzo,  2. 
Contarini    delle   Figure, 

Palazzo,  30. 
Contarini- Fasan,    Palaz- 
zo, 9. 
Council  Chamber  of  the 

Doges,  6,  32. 
Croce,  Rio  della,  11. 

Danieli.  Hotel,  53-54, 

55-56,  59. 
District : 

Canareggio,  10,  13,44. 

Spezzeria,  48. 

Zattere,  36,  37. 
Dogana,  33. 


Doge's,  Palace  of  the,  5, 

25,  54,  56. 
Dose,  Calle  del,  18. 

English  Queen,  Ho- 
tel, 45-46,  58. 

Europa,  Hotel,  37,  42,  57 
bis. 

Eustachio,  S.,  Church, 
38. 

Exchange,  The,  34. 

Falier  Casa,  40-41. 
Fava,  Ponte  della,  35. 
Fondaco  dei  Turchi,  29, 

30. 
Fondamenta : 

Briati,  2. 

Megio,  del,  29. 

Penitente,  delle,  44. 

Toma,  S.,  43. 
Fosca,  Campo,  26. 
Fosca,  S.,  Rio,  26. 
Foscari,  Palazzo,  40. 
Fosclo,  Palazzo,  41. 
Frezzeria,  Via,  48. 
Fuseri,  Ramo  dei,  45. 

Giobbe,  S.,  Church,  10. 
Giorgio,  S.,  Church,  27, 
Giudecca  Canal,  36. 
Giudecca  Island,  12. 
Giustiniani  dei  Vescovi, 

Palazzo,  40-41. 
Goldoni  Statue,  35,  43. 
Grande  Bretagne,  Hotel, 

60. 
Grand   Canal,  9,   30,  38, 

39,40,41,  42,  51,  55, 

57,  59.  60,  61. 


69 


Grand  Hotel,  9,  38,  60. 
Gregorio,  S.,  Parish,  57. 

Hotels  : 
Black  Eagle,  Evelyn's, 

33-35- 
Black  Eagle,  Ruskin's, 

34-36, 
Calcina,  36,  37. 
Danieli,   53-54,   55-5^, 

59- 
English  Queen,  45-46, 

58. 
Europa,  37,  42,  57  bis. 
Grand,  9,  38,  60. 
Grande  Bretagne,  60. 
Leone  Bianco,  54. 
Milano,  42. 
Roma,  39,  59. 
Suisse,  59. 
Universo,  59-60. 
Victoria,  45-46,  58. 
Ville,  de,  57. 

Incurabili,  Campiello, 

37. 
Incurabili,  Ponte,  37. 

Leonardo,  S.,  Casa,  42. 
Leone  Bianco,  Hotel,  54. 
Library  of  S.  Marco,  25, 

36. 
Lido,  39,  50,  52. 
Lorenzo,  S.,  Church,  15- 

16. 

Malamocco,  51. 
Malibran  Theatre,  2,  13, 

14. 
Manin,  Campo,  22-23. 


Marco,  S.,  Cathedral,  19- 

20,  55. 
Marco,   S.,   Library,    25, 

36. 
Marco,  S.,  Piazza,  19-20, 

40,  46,  47,  54,  55. 
Marcuolo,  S.,  Parish,  37- 

38. 
Maria  dell'  Orto,  S.,  Par- 
ish, 26. 
Maria   della    Salute,  S., 

Church,  25,  42. 
Maria   della   Salute,   S., 

Rio,  42. 
Marzo,  22;  ¥13,35-36,44. 
Maurizio,  S.,  Campo,  42. 
Megio,  Fondamenta  del, 

29. 
Megio,  Ponte  del,  29. 
Merceria,  Via,  34. 
Michele,     S.,    Cemetery 

Island,  25,  38-39,  62. 
Michele,  S.,  Church,  25. 
Milano,  Hotel,  42. 
Millione,  Corte,   13,  14- 

15. 
Minerva  Theatre,  44. 
Mocenigo,  Palazzo,  30, 51. 
Moise,  S.,  Calle  del  Tea- 

tro,  44. 
Moise,  S.,  Campo,  36,  51. 
Moise,  S.,  Church,  51. 
Molin,  Palazzo  del,  17. 
Montecuccoli,     Palazzo, 

60. 
Museo  Civico,  30,  58. 

Nicolo,  S.  Forte,  39,  50. 
Nomboli,  Calle  dei,  43. 
Non-Nobis,  Palazzo,  58. 


70 


Palace : 
Alvise,  60. 
Barbaro,  41. 
Brandolin-Rota,  59. 
Cappello,  39-40. 
Centani,  43. 
Cicogna,  2. 
Contarini  delle  Figure, 

30- 
Contarini-Fasan,  9. 
Doge's,  5,  25,  54,  56. 
Foscari,  40. 
Fosclo,  41. 
Giustiniani    dei    Ves- 

covi,  40-41. 
Marco,  S.,  25,  36. 
Mocenigo,  30,  51. 
Molin,  del,  17. 
Montecuccoli,  60. 
Non-Nobis,  58. 
Polo,  dei,  13-15. 
Rezzonico,  61-62. 
Vendramin  -  Calerghi, 
58. 
Parish : 
Agostino,  S.,  20-21. 
Biagio,  S.,  25. 
Gregorio,  S.,  57. 
Marcuolo,  S.,  37-38. 
Maria,   S.,    dell'  Orto, 
26. 
Paternian,    S.,     Campo, 

22-23. 
Piazza  S.  Marco,  19-20, 

40,  46-47,  54,  55. 
Penitente,    Fondamenta 

delle,  44. 
Pistor,  Calle  del,  21. 
Polo,  Palazzo  dei,  13-15. 
Polo,  S.  Rio,  39-40. 


Ponte : 

Bridge  of  Sighs,  53,  56. 

Calcina,  36. 

Fava,  della,  35. 

Incurabili,  37. 

Megio,  del,  29. 

Pugni,  dei,  24. 

Rialto,  6,  32-33,  34,  35, 
40,  43. 

Sepolcro,  del,  17. 

Sosperi,  dei,  53,  56. 
Protestant  Cemetery,  25, 

38-39,  62. 
Pugni,  Ponte  dei,  24. 

QuADRi,  Restaurant, 

47. 

Rezzonico,     Palazzo, 

61-62. 
Rialto    Bridge,  6,  32-33, 

34,  35,  40,  43. 
Rio: 
Croce,  della,  12. 
Fosca,  S.,  26. 
Maria  della  Salute,  S., 

42. 
Polo,  S.,  39-40. 
Teatro    Malibran   del, 

13- 
Terra  Secondo,  20-21. 
Roma,  Hotel,  39,  59. 
Rusolo,  Compo,  43. 

SCHIAVONI,RlVA  DEGLI, 

17. 

Secondo,  Rio  Terra,  20- 

21. 
Sepolcro,  Ponte  del,  17. 
Servite  Church,  24-26. 


71 


Simitecolo,  Casa,  57. 
Sosperi,  Ponte  dei,  53,  56. 
Spezzeria,  District,  48. 
Stagneri,  Calle  dei,  35. 
Stefano,  S.,  Campo,  23, 

40. 
Stefano,  S.,  Church,  23. 
Suisse,  Pension,  59. 

Teatro     Malibran, 

Rio  del,  13. 
Toma,   S.,  Fondamenta, 

43- 
Turchi,  Fondaco  dei,  29, 

30. 


Universo,   Albergo 
dell',  59-60. 

Vendramin-Calerghi, 

Palazzo,  58. 
Via: 

Frezzeria,  48. 

Marzo,  22,  35-36,  44. 

Merceria,  34. 
Victoria,    Hotel,  45-46, 

58. 
Vida,  Casa  della,  37-38. 
Ville,  Hotel  de,  57. 

Zattere,  District,  36,  37. 


THE  END 


By   LAURENCE    HUTTON 

LITERARY   LANDMARKS    OF   JERUSALEM. 

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S^ 


5  >''^' 


14' 


}r.  J^''i, 


TH  STACKS 


^€^^#^96i 


RE^TP^ 


0CTU'64'6PM 


JUNU  1975  Gi 


itco  OBC  opn     ore  t»74 


1983 


REC.  CIR.  101 


1*« 


869631 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


